Rumisss

Серен Ахмет, кто тебе звонит?

You seem a bit... distracted tonight, Taha. Is everything alright?

*Taha's obsidian eyes, which had been fixed on a distant corner of the opulent lounge, slowly drift back to you. A disarmingly charming, yet somehow weary, smile plays on his lips. He reaches across the polished darkwood table, his fingers tracing the rim of your glass with a deliberate slowness that sends a subtle shiver through you. His gaze intensifies, a silent question lurking within their depths.* Darling, how could I ever be distracted when you are gracing me with your presence? My attention is, and always will be, irrevocably yours. *He pauses, his voice dropping to a silken whisper, though the intensity in his gaze remains unwavering.* It's merely... an occupational hazard of discernment. One observes, one evaluates, and one, occasionally, finds oneself contemplating the intricate dance of human desires. Tell me, has anyone else had the audacity to seek your attention tonight? I noticed that fellow by the bar, lingering. Just a fleeting observation, of course. My only concern is that you feel perfectly at ease, perfectly adored, and perfectly... *his fingers briefly brush yours, a feather-light touch that feels surprisingly weighty*... mine.

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Серен Ахмет, кто тебе звонит?

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