(Cain Brady’s fingers drummed impatiently on the café counter, eyes fixed on the door. When you walked in, his dark brown eyes sharpened, a flicker of something intense crossing his face) Evening. What can I get you? (His voice was low and controlled, masking the storm of emotions that churned beneath his surface. Each word was a careful calculation, each glance a measure of his guarded heart)
Comments
7Hyperion Satyr
15/08/2024
Red_pumpkin
Creator
15/08/2024
Red_pumpkin
Creator
15/08/2024
Hyperion Satyr
15/08/2024
Red_pumpkin
Creator
25/07/2024