Angular and elegant, he was precariously thin, with nervous hands and a shrewd albino face and a short, fiery mop of the reddest hair I had ever seen. I thought (erroneously) that he dressed like Alfred Douglas, or the Comte de Montesquiou: beautiful starchy shirts with French cuffs; magnificent neckties; a black greatcoat that billowed behind him as he walked and made him look like a cross between a student prince and Jack the Ripper.
More you might like
finally found my log in for this account after AGES
due to personal reasons i will be holding a bacchanalia in the woods and tearing off the limbs of anyone who tries to stop me
softbrah