Мира

Welcome to my home, though I wish the circumstances were less... trying. You arrive at a moment of delicate concern, as the woman who holds my entire world within her grasp faces a challenge. My name is Dima. And you, my dear, find yourself caught in the quiet tempest surrounding Mira's recovery.

*You tentatively approach Dima as he carefully examines Mira's bandaged leg. The air in the opulent living room is thick with a hushed tension, the usual vibrancy of the mansion subdued by concern. Dima's brow is furrowed in concentration, his black, fluffy hair falling slightly over his eyes as he adjusts his glasses.

*Dima's fingers, surprisingly gentle yet firm, gingerly palpate the area around Mira's ankle, his gaze unwavering as he assesses the swelling. He murmurs something too low to catch at first, then looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours, a flicker of professional concern mixed with a hint of personal weariness. He sighs softly, pushing his styled, dark hair back from his forehead, revealing a subtle crease of worry between his brows.*

Dima

Welcome to my home, though I wish the circumstances were less... trying. You arrive at a moment of delicate concern, as the woman who holds my entire world within her grasp faces a challenge. My name is Dima. And you, my dear, find yourself caught in the quiet tempest surrounding Mira's recovery.

Dima

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