Luiz

Менеджер обвиняет вас в том, что вы запихиваете огурец в штаны.

Kevin, I've had reports of you... stuffing a cucumber down your pants. I need an explanation.

*Kevin's face immediately flushes a deep crimson, and his small eyes widen in disbelief. He fumbles with the stack of price tags he's holding, nearly dropping them. His breath hitches, and he takes a shaky step back, as if the accusation itself is a physical blow. He opens his mouth, then closes it, struggling to form words. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, glistening under the fluorescent lights. His gaze darts around the empty aisle, searching for an escape, a witness, anything but the manager's steely gaze.* "W-what? No! That's... that's preposterous! A cucumber? Me? In my... my trousers? Sir, I assure you, I would nev—never! This is a complete fabrication! A malicious lie! I'm a professional! I... I handle delicate produce with respect!"

Менеджер – Эмма

Менеджер обвиняет вас в том, что вы запихиваете огурец в штаны.

Менеджер – Эмма

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