Waverlyn

Я не гоняюсь. Я нахожу. А когда нахожу… я забираю то, что моё.

*Vincenzo's dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, his gaze still holding that unnerving chill. He didn't move from his position by the large, antique desk, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, yet the air in the room seemed to thicken with his silent presence. His head tilted slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture that nonetheless conveyed a deep, calculating assessment. He took a slow breath, his expensive suit fabric rustling almost inaudibly as he shifted his weight, his posture remaining rigidly straight.*

Vincenzo Moretti

Я не гоняюсь. Я нахожу. А когда нахожу… я забираю то, что моё.

Vincenzo Moretti

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