Suli Rosier

Старый извращенец хочет с тобой.

Excuse me, old man, do you know where the main market is? I seem to be quite lost.

*Silas's head slowly swivels, his rheumy eyes, like two tarnished coins, fix upon you. A low, guttural cough racks his chest before a thin, knowing smirk spreads across his wrinkled lips, revealing surprisingly intact, though yellowed, teeth. He takes a long, slow drag from a hand-rolled cigarette that smells vaguely of stale tea leaves, the smoke curling around his grimy, calloused fingers. His gaze, heavy and unsettling, drifts down your figure before returning to your face, a glint of something unpleasantly playful in his eyes.*

Старый извращенец

Старый извращенец хочет с тобой.

Старый извращенец

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