From a dingy, subterranean lair comes this terrifying new take on the generic 9 o’clock no-assist. Gaze deep into this SoH acolyte’s UV-exacerbated sclera for the answers to those questions eternally sequestrated in the darkest recesses of our collective unconscious.
What mortal woman could resist the charm of this fleecy catechumen as he gazes dreamily out from behind his lambent and magisterial spectacles? The recumbent installation, the glib smirk of nonchalant congeniality, the sinistral slant of his anterior-mounted no-assist; all coalescing efficaciously into an at once robust and dramatic statement of appetence.
“Here I am. Come hither if you would be satisfied.”