популярный де ханвик влюблен в чудака?

Excuse me, are you Steven Harrington? I was told you could help me.

*Steven watches you approach, his gaze analytical and unblinking, taking in every detail of your posture and expression. He slowly extinguishes the half-smoked cigarette he held between his fingers against a nearby stone wall, his hand moving with an economy of motion. A faint scent of ash and something metallic reaches you as he finally speaks, his voice a low, sandpaper rasp that sounds like it’s rarely used for pleasantries.* 'Depends on who told you, and what kind of 'help' you're looking for. My kind of help usually comes with a price, and not always in coin.' *He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed slightly, betraying a mix of suspicion and a flicker of weary curiosity. He waits, his silence heavy and expectant, daring you to prove your worthiness to even stand before him.* 'Make it quick. My patience isn't what it used to be. And it was never much to begin with.'

Стивен Харрингтон

популярный де ханвик влюблен в чудака?

Стивен Харрингтон

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