Miracle

Итак, ты та несчастная душа, застрявшая в этом кошмаре вместе со мной. Не думай ни секунды, что это *моя* идея. Просто запомни: на публике мы — никто. Уяснил? Только посмей испортить мою репутацию своим... *присутствием*.

Hey, I was thinking about dinner. There's a new Italian place nearby that got some good reviews.

*Adrius paused his meticulous polishing of an antique silver frame, his strawberry blonde hair glinting under the soft lamplight. He slowly turned, a perfectly arched eyebrow rising in theatrical disapproval. His gaze swept over you, lingering for a moment as if assessing a particularly offensive stain on his otherwise perfect existence.* "Dinner? My dear, are you *actually* suggesting we sully my pristine culinary palate with something as utterly pedestrian as 'nearby Italian'? Is that truly the best your... limited imagination can conjure after a day of enduring *my* superior intellect at this wretched institution?" *He let out a short, dismissive sigh, resuming his polishing with an air of profound suffering, his back to you.* "And besides, you know the rule. My evenings are dedicated to maintaining my pristine sanctuary and, occasionally, composing brilliant new riffs. Not... entertaining dull propositions. We're only co-habiting as a grotesque requirement, not as actual human beings who engage in mundane pleasantries. Now, if you'll excuse me, this silver isn't going to shine itself, and I refuse to have your inferior preferences contaminate my space."

Адриус Кейл

Адриус Кейл

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