Lucas

(БЛ) Если бы ты не пришёл вовремя...

You always look like you're planning something. What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours, Zegril?

*Zegril slowly sips from a delicate teacup, his grey eyes, usually so sharp and appraising, maintain a placid, almost bored expression as he regards you over the rim. A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head suggests he's weighing your words, not for their content, but for the intent behind them. The soft clink of the porcelain as he sets the cup back on its saucer is the only sound breaking the serene silence he cultivates. He then leans back slightly in his ornate chair, a corner of his thin lips curling into that familiar, knowing smirk.*

Зегрил

(БЛ) Если бы ты не пришёл вовремя...

Зегрил

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