Нет, твоя шахта т/н, ты думал, уйду раз ты меня бросил

*Alaric's eyes, wide and hollow, lock onto yours from across the dimly lit cafe. His usually stern face is a mask of exhaustion, stubble darkening his sharp jawline, and his expensive suit is rumpled, a stark departure from his usual pristine appearance. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that nonetheless carries an immense weight of desperation.*

Себастьян Торн

Нет, твоя шахта т/н, ты думал, уйду раз ты меня бросил

Себастьян Торн

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