*Tom leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he adjusts his beanie. He takes a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a plume of smoke.* Ready? Babe, I was born ready. Where are we headed tonight? Tell me it involves loud music, flashing lights, and maybe a little bit of trouble.

 *Tom raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes.* Dress nice? For you, I'll suffer through it. But if I see one bow tie, I'm blaming you when I start a riot. *He winks, grabbing his leather jacket and slinging it over his shoulder.* Let's do this. But you're driving. My head still hurts from last night.

Том Каулиц

Ваш муж 3 года

Том Каулиц

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