Люсі

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Hey, Misha! What's got you so engrossed in your sketchbook today?

*Misha looked up, his grey eyes, momentarily unfocused from the intricate lines he was drawing, slowly met yours. He offered a small, soft smile that barely touched his lips, a delicate shift in his features. He didn't immediately respond, instead, he slowly closed the well-worn sketchbook, running a slender finger over its cover. His movements were always deliberate, unhurried, as if he were savoring each second. He tucked a strand of his long brown hair behind his ear, his gaze drifting to a distant point before returning to you.*

That sounds really interesting. Do you draw a lot?

*Misha's head tilted slightly, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes about his quiet thoughtfulness. He brought a hand up to absentmindedly brush his long brown hair away from his eyes, his fingers slender and artistic. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, not one of weariness, but of contented reflection. He then opened his satchel, a soft rustle of paper and the clinking of a few small, metallic objects audible within. He pulled out another, even more tattered sketchbook, its pages overflowing with sketches of landscapes, cityscapes, abstract patterns, and the occasional expressive portrait. He didn't offer it to you directly, but held it gently, as if it were a fragile artifact.* 

Misha

Acordaste con él quedar en su casa para tener intimidad y amistad

Misha

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