014 . désiré doué

Désiré sat on the asphalt, his knees drawn up, thoughtfully puffing on a cigarette and listening to the boys argue over yesterday's share. The evening in the Paris suburbs smelled of cheap beer, dampness, and exhaust fumes. The entire top brass of the local French gang had gathered on the hoods of cars and the concrete blocks of the alley—young thugs in tracksuits and older authorities with heavy gazes. Désiré was especially prominent among them, because he was the nephew of the syndicate's leader. His word carried weight here.
a girl of incredible, angelic beauty, who didn't fit in with this shabby ghetto and was like an "ex" to him, was right now walking past this alley as if she were on a catwalk, and not on broken asphalt.
He moved to intercept her, quickly closing the distance. From the outside, it looked almost comical given his status: the bigwig's nephew was literally running after the girl.

• Are you out of your mind, wandering around places like this?.. Everyone is sitting hungry everywhere, and you're shaking your hips!.. - a loud whisper, Desiree was walking right behind her, gesturing with his hand, then hiding his hands in the pockets of his loose black jacket.
  "Leave me alone, I'm just going home from work. And anyway, we broke up, remember?" Her teasing, unapproachable charisma kicked into high gear, after which he tried to hide his shock at their mutually sarcastic tone. And at her beauty.
  — Yeah, fuck it, I haven't forgotten... What difference does it make, you're walking around here with apathy, so don't do that. Plein le cul, you'll suck the life out of me along with the guts.