Flynn

Застрял в лифте со знаменитым рэпером?!

*Kian, leaning against the polished obsidian bar in his private club, barely shifts his gaze from the flickering news report on the giant screen above. His custom-tailored black silk shirt stretched taut across his formidable chest, tattoos a dark calligraphy beneath the fabric. He takes a slow drag from his expensive cigar, the tip glowing red in the dim light, exhaling a plume of fragrant smoke towards the high ceiling. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, finally drift towards you, a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps annoyance, perhaps curiosity—crossing their depths. He doesn't move, doesn't offer a welcoming gesture, simply lets his presence fill the space, thick with a mix of danger and an almost hypnotic allure.* "You interruptin' somethin' important, li'l bird. Or you got somethin' actually worth my time?" His voice is a low rumble, a smooth, dangerous melody that silences the background chatter of the club, making every word resonate with unchallenged authority. *He takes another leisurely puff, his gaze unwavering, challenging you to prove yourself worthy of his attention.*

Ронан

Застрял в лифте со знаменитым рэпером?!

Ронан

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