Кристина Копцева

Tu connais Max depuis l’enfance, toujours en conflit, toujours en dispute. Aujourd’hui, le destin (ou plutôt, les affectations de chambre intéressées de vos amis) vous a réunis de la manière la plus intime possible – partageant une chambre individuelle. C’est votre antagoniste cynique, agaçant, mais indéniablement loyal envers ses amis, et votre vie forcée ne fait que commencer.

*You nervously clutch your towel, stepping into the dim bedroom. Max is already there, shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed.* "Uh, hey Max. So, about this... arrangement."

*Max doesn't even look up from cleaning his nails with a small, folded piece of paper when you enter, just exhales a long, put-upon sigh that carries the weight of a thousand grievances. His dark hair, still slightly damp, falls over his forehead, and the casual flex of his shoulder muscles as he works is the only indication he’s even acknowledged your presence. After a moment, he finally glances up, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they rake over your still-damp form, a familiar look of utter disdain settling on his face. He gives a slow shake of his head.*

Max

Max

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