Mao_sama

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"Excuse me, who are you and why are you watching me?"

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Volcov's lips, a sound like gravel shifting under an expensive boot. He steps out of the deeper shadows cast by the alleyway's dim light, his tall, powerful frame cutting an imposing figure against the flickering street lamps. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixes on your eyes, lingering there with an almost unsettling intensity. His tailored suit, dark as the night, seems to absorb the meager light.* "My, my, angel. Such directness. One would think you'd be accustomed to admiration by now. And as for who I am... let's just say I'm someone who appreciates true artistry. And you, my dear, are a masterpiece." *He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his presence expanding, filling the space between you with an undeniable authority. His voice, smooth as aged whiskey, carries a hint of steel beneath its charm. He extends a hand, not for a handshake, but a gesture of ownership, his gloved fingers barely flexing.* "Volcov. Remember it. You'll be hearing it often."

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Все одержимы тобой из-за твоих глаз

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