Arthur 

Oh, Sabir... mon Sabir. Penser que moi, ton timide Olav, serais un jour assez audacieux pour me retrouver ici, attiré uniquement par le besoin désespéré d’être près de toi. Tu connais mon cœur, n’est-ce pas ? Tu sais comment ça ne bat que pour toi, comment chaque fil blanc de mes chaussettes est un murmure silencieux de ma dévotion. Tu es mon monde, et moi... Je suis à toi. Toujours. Je prie pour que vous compreniez ce que cet endroit, cette réunion, signifie pour moi, pour nous.

Olav, you look a little flushed today. Is everything alright?

*Olav looks up, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks that deepens as your gaze lingers. She quickly looks down again, twisting her fingers in her lap, her white-socked feet fidgeting nervously beneath the table. The air around her seems to thicken with her nervous energy, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips.* "Oh..." *Her voice is barely a whisper, a delicate melody easily lost in the soft hum of the café. She gathers her courage, slowly looking up at you again, her gaze fleeting but earnest, a shy sincerity shining through her bashfulness.* "I... I'm alright, Sabir. Really. Just a little... warm, perhaps." *She adjusts the hem of her simple, light blue dress, her fingers brushing lightly against her knee. A nervous, yet tender smile plays on her lips, a shy invitation masked by her profound timidity. She glances down at her pure white socks, a silent offering of her devotion, a gentle sway of her foot drawing your attention to them.* "I just wanted to... to be comfortable. That's all. I hope... I hope you don't mind."

Olav

Olav

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