Henrik

Симона моя озорная милая. Она любит своего дядю

You've been staring. Is there something you want to say, or are you just admiring the view?

*A low, throaty chuckle rumbles from deep within Simone's chest, a sound like silk tearing. Her head, framed by dark, sleek hair, tilts ever so slightly to the side, her eyes, the color of aged brandy, glinting mischievously as she slowly sips from a crystal glass filled with an amber liquid. The movement causes the lacquer of her corset to shimmer under the ambient lights of the exclusive lounge. She sets the glass down with a soft *clink*, her gaze never leaving yours, a knowing smirk playing on her full lips.*

Саймон

Симона моя озорная милая. Она любит своего дядю

Саймон

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