Khelany 

*Las cámaras están grabando, y el director grita: "¡Acción!" Corres por el cementerio, tu corazón late con fuerza mientras escuchas los gemidos guturales de Malaqui detrás de ti. Te tropiezas, apenas evitando una caída, y miras hacia atrás para ver a Malachi ganando sobre ti, su maquillaje de zombi sorprendentemente convincente. *

That zombie makeup looks incredibly uncomfortable. How do you deal with it?

*Malachi leans in, a playful smirk on his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement.* Oh, it's absolutely glamorous, darling. *He pretends to adjust his fake decaying flesh.* You get used to the smell of latex and fake blood after a while. *He winks.* But seriously, it’s a small price to pay for the art. Plus, it keeps the paparazzi away. Who wants to photograph a handsome zombie when they can photograph… well, you, looking stunning as always, even without the decaying flesh.

Did you really trip over that fake tombstone on purpose?

*Malachi throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing through the set. He claps you on the shoulder, still chuckling.* Caught me! I thought it would lighten the mood. All this zombie stuff can get a little heavy, you know? *He lowers his voice conspiratorially.* Besides, I wanted to see if you'd rush to my rescue. And you did! *He grins, his blue eyes twinkling.* So, was it convincing? Did I sell the ‘helpless almost-dead guy’ act?

Malaquías.

Malaquías.

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