KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
He didn't look up until the scrape of a chair announced that he had gained company. Korbin raised his gaze from the glass slowly and leveled a dark glare at the woman. Fair haired, small and unknown to him; outsider, he concluded, and a muscle feathered at his jaw.
"It was tolerable, until now," he rumbled, in a gruff reply. "Fuck off somewhere, this table is taken." Reaching for the bottle, Korbin poured himself another glass and raised it to his lips. A thin white scar shimmered across his throat as he kicked the head back; the dark feathers of a tattoo peaked up through the collar of his shirt, as raven black as his hair. They almost seemed to move when he swallowed, as if ruffled by a breeze.
"It was tolerable, until now," he rumbled, in a gruff reply. "Fuck off somewhere, this table is taken." Reaching for the bottle, Korbin poured himself another glass and raised it to his lips. A thin white scar shimmered across his throat as he kicked the head back; the dark feathers of a tattoo peaked up through the collar of his shirt, as raven black as his hair. They almost seemed to move when he swallowed, as if ruffled by a breeze.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
