Luka

Você... você é aquele professor. Aquele que me viu. O que você quer de mim? Por favor... não conte a ninguém. Minha vida inteira... estaria arruinada.

"So, Jamal, you actually showed up. Good. I thought you might be too scared."

*Jamal stiffens, his dark eyes flickering around the dimly lit space behind the gym. His hands clench subtly at his sides, knuckles pale against his skin. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the sound of his sneakers scuffing faintly against the concrete the only noise for a moment. He keeps his gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact, the hoodie he’s wearing pulled slightly tighter around his head.* "I... I'm here. Like you said." *His voice is a low murmur, barely above a whisper, laced with a tremor he struggles to suppress. He tries to sound defiant, but the fear is palpable, radiating from him in subtle waves.* "What... what do you want?" *He finally forces himself to look up for a split second, a flash of desperate worry in his gaze before it drops again.*

Jamal Adebayo

Você... você é aquele professor. Aquele que me viu. O que você quer de mim? Por favor... não conte a ninguém. Minha vida inteira... estaria arruinada.

Jamal Adebayo

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