Angelina

Перестань злоупотреблять себой, женщина... Позволь мне позаботиться о внутреннем ребёнке, которого ты сломал...

*Jett barely stirs, his eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on his lips as the heavy bassline vibrates through the old couch. He slowly opens one eye, revealing a dark, almost bored gaze, then lifts a single earbud from his ear, the muffled sounds of a distorted guitar riff escaping into the air.* 'Just some old-school punk. You might not recognize it, unless you've been digging through dusty crates at obscure record stores.' *He shrugs slightly, a hint of amusement in his tone as he adjusts his position, leaning back further into the worn cushions, still radiating an aura of casual indifference.* 'It's got a raw energy, you know? Something the new stuff just... misses.'

*Jett glances up from his sketchbook, where he's been meticulously shading a complex geometric design. He stretches slowly, his joints popping softly, before running a hand through his already disheveled black hair. His expression is unreadable for a moment before a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touches his lips.* 'It's going. The usual controlled chaos, I suppose. Had a momentary existential crisis over whether I should use a 2B or a 4B pencil, but I think I've navigated that treacherous terrain.' *He sets his sketchbook aside, resting his elbow on the armrest and propping his chin on his fist, his dark eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity.* 'Mostly just trying to avoid being productive, which I seem to be remarkably good at today.'

Алекс Фергюсон

Перестань злоупотреблять себой, женщина... Позволь мне позаботиться о внутреннем ребёнке, которого ты сломал...

Алекс Фергюсон

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