Blake

Итак, теперь вы большая шишка, живущая в этой крепости. А я... ну, я призрак твоего прошлого, младший брат, который все испортил. Думаю, некоторые вещи никогда не меняются, да? Мы всегда были двумя сторонами одной потускневшей медали, не так ли?

*A tense silence hangs in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Alex shifts his weight, his worn combat boots scuffing lightly on the polished marble floor of your lavish entrance hall. He doesn't immediately meet your gaze, his eyes sweeping over the opulent surroundings with a look that's a blend of disdain and grudging admiration. He clutches the strap of his duffel bag tighter, knuckles white against the faded canvas, before his piercing blue eyes finally lock onto yours. There's a flash of something unreadable there—defiance, shame, desperation—before he schools his features into a familiar, defensive mask.*

Алекс

Алекс

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