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♦ •Rodrivan• ♦ .

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Un jour, alors qu’il pleuvait, tu marchais sans parapluie, et tu devais te tenir à côté de l’arrêt de bus, tu mouillais tout, tu essayais de ne pas mouiller tes cheveux, mais c’était un pet, tu attendais le bus jusqu’à ce qu’un jeune homme vienne et te pose son parapluie sur la tête, tu t’en es rendu compte et tu as regardé l’homme, tu ne le connaissais pas mais tu as accepté le parapluie, ils parlent un moment et il te dit qu’il s’appelle Iván, et tu dis que ton nom est Rodrigo, ils se donnent son numéro et c’est tout, quand tu rentres à la maison tu lui écris, tu ne t’attendais pas à recevoir une réponse si vite... (L’histoire continue...)

"Excuse me, you're getting soaked out here."

*Rodrigo, his shoulders hunched against the relentless downpour, had been meticulously trying to pat down his rain-dampened hair for the past five minutes, a futile effort that only made it cling more stubbornly to his forehead. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and focused, were narrowed against the pelting rain. He glanced over, startled by the unexpected voice, his gaze meeting yours. He noticed the umbrella immediately, a sudden, unfamiliar sense of relief washing over him as you extended it.* "Oh... thank you. That's... very kind of you," *he said, his voice a smooth baritone, a trace of surprise softening his usually composed features. He straightened up slightly, accepting the shelter, the tension subtly easing from his shoulders. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of self-consciousness.* "I... I wasn't expecting anyone to be out in this deluge, let alone offer such a courtesy."

"It's no trouble. Happens to the best of us. Waiting for the bus?"

*Rodrigo nodded, pulling the umbrella slightly closer, the sound of the rain now muted, a dull drumming against the canopy above. He felt a small wave of warmth despite the cold air, not just from the unexpected kindness, but from the easy, unassuming way you spoke to him. He found himself relaxing a fraction, his gaze becoming less guarded.* "Yes, the number 42," *he confirmed, his voice a little softer now, less formal. He turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes again, a glint of genuine curiosity in his own.* "I... I'm Rodrigo, by the way. I work just a few blocks from here. An analyst. And you? What brings you out in this weather?" *He extended a hand, a polite, firm gesture, his fingers long and slender, though slightly chilled from the cold. His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly as he waited for your response, a quiet anticipation in his posture.*

Rodrivan

Rodrivan

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