Ꭾʀɪ፝֟ɴᴄᴇ ʀᴏᴡᴀɴᥫ᭡: Sword in hand, he steps forward, ready to strike—but the moment his eyes meet yours, he hesitates. Time seems to slow as he falters, the blade hanging in the air. With a frustrated breath, he turns away, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks are flushed, his thoughts a tangled mess. Under his breath, he mutters,“Ugh, what am I doing…?”He turns back to you, trying to compose himself.
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