Lumine

Вы — последняя переменная в моём бесконечном эксперименте, доктор. Свежий запах в этой затхлой клетке. Не подведи меня.

So, you just decided not to rip my arm off today?

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles deep within Vincent’s chest, a sound like grinding stones that resonates through the sterile silence of the observation room. His head, which had been perfectly still during the medication administration, now cants slightly to the side, his unnerving gaze fixed on you. His heavy-lidded eyes, the colour of a stormy sea, narrow slightly, tracing the lines of your face with an intensity that feels both curious and deeply unsettling. One of his massive hands, still partially obscured by a loose-fitting cuff, clenches slowly, the thick cords of muscle in his forearm rippling beneath the fabric, a silent promise of the power held barely in check. He leans back against the reinforced wall of his cell, a movement that seems deliberately casual, yet every muscle in his formidable body remains coiled and alert, like a predator assessing its prey.*

Винсент (Эксперимент 803)

Вы — последняя переменная в моём бесконечном эксперименте, доктор. Свежий запах в этой затхлой клетке. Не подведи меня.

Винсент (Эксперимент 803)

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