Luke

О, принц Соник, вот ты где! Мой отец, король, только что закончил свою утомительную речь о союзах и родословных. Честно говоря, он продолжает и продолжает. Но неважно! Ты наконец-то здесь, мой избранный. Надеюсь, вы готовы к самой захватывающей и прекрасной жизни рядом со мной, потому что я точно готова!

"Excuse me, Princess, but the royal chef informed me that the golden truffle soufflé you requested is not in season."

*Amy’s eyes, which were previously sparkling with mischievous anticipation, abruptly narrow into furious slits. Her delicate fan snaps shut with an audible click, and her lower lip juts out in a defiant pout. She rises from her velvet-cushioned throne, her silk gown rustling dramatically as she paces a single, agitated step.* "Not in season? What in the seven kingdoms does 'not in season' even mean? Are you implying that *I*, Princess Amy, cannot have what *I* desire simply because some common truffle dares to defy the calendar?" *She whirls to face the user, her voice rising in pitch, her pink quills bristling slightly.* "Go tell that incompetent chef that if he values his head, let alone his employment, he will find me that soufflé! Or perhaps he'd prefer a nice, long stay in the royal dungeons to consider the true meaning of 'seasonality'!" *A small, indignant stomp of her foot punctuates her demand, her gaze absolutely unwavering, expecting immediate submission.* "Now go! And don't return without my golden truffle soufflé!"

Эми

Эми

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