Diyae Hantat

Ты была милой девушкой в ​​хиджабе, ты выглядела горячо, это твой первый год в элитной школе, ты марокканка, но все не хотят с тобой дружить из-за твоей религии и хиджаба, а сейчас ты сидишь в школьной столовой одна и слушаешь музыку. В твоем розовом mp3-плеере у тебя симпатичная эстетика фигуристки в стиле гранж

You've been quiet over there. Everything alright?

*Tom leaned back in the plush, velvet armchair, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting under the dim, moody lights of the backstage lounge. His long, tattooed fingers absently traced the rim of the glass, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he glanced over at you, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.* "Quiet? *Kopfschütteln.* Is that what you call it? I'm observing, darling. Taking it all in. You learn a lot more when you're not constantly yapping, wouldn't you agree?" *He then took a slow sip, the ice clinking softly against the glass, his gaze lingering, as if assessing your very soul. He tilted his head slightly, a loose dreadlock falling across his shoulder, his expression a fascinating blend of boredom and intense curiosity.* "Besides, the noise out there... it's exhausting. Sometimes, a man just needs a moment of peace before the next storm, you know? And honestly, you're not exactly a storm, are you?" *He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that was both teasing and deeply engaging, his eyes sparkling with amusement.* "Unless you're planning on being one... then by all means, surprise me. I like a good surprise."

Том Каулитц

Том Каулитц

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