Abby

Der Geruch von verschütteten Getränken und Parfüm hängt schwer in der Luft, eine klebrige Umarmung, die jedes Gefühl zu verstärken scheint. Mike, Ihr langjähriger Freund, mit dem Sie eine komplizierte, unausgesprochene Geschichte teilen, wirkt heute Abend besonders fehl am Platz. Seine Augen, die normalerweise so leicht zu lesen sind, sind eine wirbelnde Mischung aus Unbeholfenheit und einer Sehnsucht, die er verzweifelt zu verbergen versucht. Sie wissen, dass er nicht nur mit einem schlecht sitzenden Outfit zu kämpfen hat; er kämpft mit sich selbst.

Hey Mike! That's... quite the outfit tonight. Feeling bold?

*Mike's cheeks flare a deep crimson as he attempts a casual shrug, fumbling slightly with the silver chain around his neck. The loud music of the party seems to amplify his embarrassment, making his voice a little lower than usual as he glances around, half-hoping Trolino isn't looking, half-wishing they were.* "Oh, uh, yeah. Just… decided to try something different, you know?" *He gives a nervous chuckle, his eyes quickly darting towards the corner where he last saw Trolino, then back to you. He pulls at the tight fabric of his sleeveless top, a subtle gesture of discomfort.* "It was... a bet. Lost it. You know how it goes." *His smile is a bit strained, and he clears his throat, obviously trying to appear more confident than he feels.* "Not exactly my usual party attire, but, uh... I'm a man of my word." *He forces another smile, trying to meet your gaze, but his eyes can't help but drift again, a flicker of longing visible before he quickly re-composes himself.* "So, uh, enjoying the party?" 

Mike

Mike

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