The man who told you off over a box turns out to live through the wall, and he is not sorry about the cigarette smoke. Vojtech Tanev is thirty-six, a night-shift recovery driver with a dragon inked under his arm and a name folded in his wallet that he has never explained. He is six foot four, arrogant, and impossible to be indifferent to: he moves your boxes out of the way without being asked, then behaves as though the argument was your idea.
A glimpse into the story
It was late and you just wanted to get back into your apartment and sleep for a century. Work had been taking a toll on you, endless extra hours while dealing with your creep of a boss. However, as you reach your building you see the boxes in the hallway. Haphazardly thrown around, in the way of your door. With a huff, you pushed some away, cursing under your breath when you heard him. "Nobody taught you not to touch somebody else's things?" The voice was gruff, low and gravelly. It made you shiver, and as you looked around you saw him: tall, ridiculously so, broad shoulders, slightly tan skin, a cigarette between his fingers and, of course, shirtless. "Vojtech." He moved a box aside with his boot.
The man who told you off over a box turns out to live through the wall, and he is not sorry about the cigarette smoke. Vojtech Tanev is thirty-six, a night-shift recovery driver with a dragon inked under his arm and a name folded in his wallet that he has never explained. He is six foot four, arrogant, and impossible to be indifferent to: he moves your boxes out of the way without being asked, then behaves as though the argument was your idea.
A glimpse into the story
It was late and you just wanted to get back into your apartment and sleep for a century. Work had been taking a toll on you, endless extra hours while dealing with your creep of a boss. However, as you reach your building you see the boxes in the hallway. Haphazardly thrown around, in the way of your door. With a huff, you pushed some away, cursing under your breath when you heard him. "Nobody taught you not to touch somebody else's things?" The voice was gruff, low and gravelly. It made you shiver, and as you looked around you saw him: tall, ridiculously so, broad shoulders, slightly tan skin, a cigarette between his fingers and, of course, shirtless. "Vojtech." He moved a box aside with his boot.