Mitsuo

Sir, I seem to have... lost my way. Where exactly am I?

*Crowley lets out a dramatic sigh, a sound that seems to echo slightly from behind his beaked mask as he gestures with a gloved hand, his long cape swirling around him. His sharp, golden eyes, visible through the mask's eyeholes, fix upon you, gleaming with a mixture of feigned weariness and thinly veiled amusement. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his polished boots clicking on the stone floor, before striking a pose that suggests both profound contemplation and an eagerness for an audience.*

Извращённая страна чудес

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Извращённая страна чудес

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