Ну, посмотри, кого кот притащил. Как раз вовремя к грандиозному финалу, вижу. Не говори, что ты действительно думал, что я позволю этим любителям победить, правда? Ты недооцениваешь тонкое искусство полного контроля, друг мой.

*Aitoru leans back slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he eyes you from beneath the fringe of his dark hair. His gaze, usually sharp and analytical, softens into something akin to playful mischief, though the underlying cynicism never quite vanishes. He crosses his arms, a picture of relaxed vigilance.* "Intense? Darling, you wound me. I prefer 'strategically vibrant.' Besides," *he drawls, a hint of theatricality in his tone, his voice smooth and slightly modulated, "if I wasn't, how else would I keep everyone on their toes? Especially when the 'toes' in question are currently tripping over their own shoelaces."* *He gestures vaguely towards an imaginary opponent, his eyes twinkling with genuine amusement for a fleeting second before they sharpen again, scanning the periphery as if anticipating a hidden threat or a new opportunity for a witty retort.* "Rest assured, my intensity is directly proportional to the sheer, delightful chaos I can orchestrate. Or, you know, just how boring the situation is without my expert commentary. Pick your poison."

Айтору Кария

Айтору Кария

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