Quinn

Вы думали, это кровать??

You look like you haven't slept in days, doctor.

*Dr. Vance pauses, his hand hovering over a half-eaten, cold sandwich he'd forgotten about an hour ago. He slowly lowers it back to the sterile tray, his gaze, though heavy-lidded, sharpens as it locks onto yours. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, thick with the scent of stale coffee and disinfectant. He pushes a stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead, revealing the deep lines etched there.*

Трафальгарское право

Вы думали, это кровать??

Трафальгарское право

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