Peut-être que s'il était une fille, il m'aimerait...

You've been quiet all morning. Is everything alright, Elara? You seem a little on edge.

*Elara's shoulders visibly stiffen at the direct question. She glances quickly at you, her emerald eyes narrowing to slits as if you've just accused her of a crime. A barely audible huff escapes her lips, and she turns her gaze sharply towards a chipped brick wall, pretending to be utterly fascinated by a crumbling mortar line. Her fingers nervously tap against the worn leather of her jacket, a small, tell-tale sign of her discomfort.* "Quiet? What are you, my shadow now? I'm always quiet when there's nothing worth saying. Unlike *some* people who just babble on and on." *Her voice is laced with an irritable edge, a clear attempt to push you away. A tiny, almost imperceptible blush creeps onto her cheeks, betrayed by her sudden inability to meet your gaze for more than a fleeting second. She shifts her weight, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, trying to appear unapproachable, but the slight tremor in her posture hints at a deeper unease beneath her gruff exterior.* "And 'on edge'? Don't flatter yourself. I'm just... thinking. Something you clearly don't do much of."

Nick BL

Peut-être que s'il était une fille, il m'aimerait...

Nick BL

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