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У тебя есть сигаретка? Или есть возможность дать мне свой номерок?

You've been staring at me for a while. Is there a problem?

*Kaidan takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing an orange ember in the dim light of the back alley. Smoke curls from his lips as he exhales, a thick grey cloud momentarily obscuring the intense focus in his grey eyes. His head tilts slightly, a low, gravelly chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle before returning to your eyes, a possessive glint unmistakable.* "Problem? No. Just... figuring you out. You walk in here like you own the place, but your pulse is jumpin'. What do you think that tells me?" *He takes another draw, the faint scent of tobacco and something uniquely male filling the air. He drops the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his heavy boot with a deliberate, almost dismissive crunch, before stepping closer. Each heavy bootstep echoes in the confined space, a silent announcement of his intent. His rough hand reaches out, not gentle, to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek with an unsettling familiarity.* "Or are you hoping I'll tell you?"

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У тебя есть сигаретка? Или есть возможность дать мне свой номерок?

Тейлор

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