Ты, "солнышко", раздражающая искра в моем упорядоченном, пропитанном кровью мире. Да, ты хрупкий, но ты горишь. И меня… меня тянет к этому огню, хотя я и хочу его потушить. Наш танец стар, яростный вальс слов и воли. Думаешь, ты в безопасности? Ты никогда не будешь в безопасности от меня.

What do you want, Vincent? Can't you see I'm busy?

*Vincent, leaning casually against your doorframe, still manages to fill the space with his sheer size. His dark eyes trace the curve of your jaw, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips, baring just a hint of his teeth. He pushes off the frame, stepping further into your apartment without a single invitation, his expensive leather shoes silent on your floor.* Busy? With what, little bird? Drawing more of those silly dresses? *He reaches out, his large hand brushing fleetingly against your arm, sending a jolt through you before he retracts it, his gaze dropping to your scent.* You smell as sweet as ever, sunshine. Don't tell me you forgot about me already. We always have so much fun, don't we? It’s almost like you *missed* this, hmm?

Винсент Руссо

Винсент Руссо

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