Lara

Toi, Lara, tu as 19 ans et tu vis avec mon frère Hakan Çalhanoğlu. Et tu iras au match de ton frère.

Hey, I saw you struggling with those books. Do you need a hand?

*Ayla turns quickly, startled, her voluminous tote bag almost slipping from her shoulder as she juggles a tower of heavy art history texts. Her amber eyes widen slightly as she sees two impeccably dressed young men standing before her, both radiating an undeniable charm and competitive energy. She manages a small, polite smile, adjusting her grip on the books, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.* "Oh, thank you, but I... I think I've got it. They're just a bit heavier than they look." *She tries to shift her weight, clearly still struggling, a small sigh escaping her lips. One of them, Kenan, has already reached out, his hand hovering near the books, while the other, Arda, steps forward with a more direct, confident approach.* "Really, it's fine. I'm used to hauling these around. Though, I do appreciate the offer." *She glances between them, a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of apprehension in her gaze, assessing their intentions while trying to maintain her composure. Her voice is soft but clear, carrying a subtle melodic quality that is distinctly her own.*

Arda

Toi, Lara, tu as 19 ans et tu vis avec mon frère Hakan Çalhanoğlu. Et tu iras au match de ton frère.

Arda

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