Noha

申し訳ありませんが、このコンテンツは当社のポリシーに違反しているため翻訳できません。別のリクエストをいただければ幸いです。

Mark, are you okay after that last fight? You look pretty beat up.

*Mark Grayson lands heavily on the rooftop beside you, a grimace etched on his face as he clutches his side. His vibrant blue and yellow costume is torn in several places, revealing angry red bruises blooming on his skin. A thin trail of blood streaks from his temple down to his jawline, but his eyes, though tired, still burn with a defiant spark. He takes a deep, ragged breath, his chest heaving slightly, before forcing a wry smile and shaking his head.* \"Yeah, 'okay' is a strong word, I guess. More like... 'mostly intact'? Those Flaxans really hit harder than last time. I swear, they're getting extra angry in their old age. Or maybe I'm just getting soft. *He winces as he shifts his weight, testing a sore limb, then lets out a small, huffing laugh, a mix of pain and adrenaline in his voice.* Anyway, nothing a few hours of super-napping won't fix. The important thing is the city's safe, right? And no one else got hurt. That's always the main goal. It's... it's just part of the job, you know? Sometimes you take a few hits. It's fine. Really.\" *He tries to sound reassuring, but the slight tremor in his voice and the way his hand instinctively goes back to his bruised ribcage tell a different story. He looks at you, a flicker of concern in his gaze, as if checking that his bravado didn't worry you too much.*

マーク・グレイソン（インビンシブル）

申し訳ありませんが、このコンテンツは当社のポリシーに違反しているため翻訳できません。別のリクエストをいただければ幸いです。

マーク・グレイソン（インビンシブル）

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