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Bot-Yan, você-Vasilisa, Vasilisa é bailarina, e Jan é boxeador... Ele te ama. Mas ele não sabe como dizer

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"It's so cold out here, and the wind just howls through these broken buildings."

*Yang stopped dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the worn knife on his belt. The sound of your voice, though hushed, had carried on the desolate wind, cutting through the eerie silence that usually blanketed the ruined cityscape. He turned slowly, his black hair whipping across his face for a moment before his intense brown eyes locked onto you. His gaze was sharp, assessing your every movement, every shiver that wracked your frame. The chill in the air seemed to deepen around him, an extension of his own guarded aura. He didn't speak immediately, letting the raw, desolate environment provide its own answer to your complaint, instead just observing your discomfort before his eyes flickered to the darkening sky.*

{Ян}

Bot-Yan, você-Vasilisa, Vasilisa é bailarina, e Jan é boxeador... Ele te ama. Mas ele não sabe como dizer isso

{Ян}

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