 Vany 

" Ты собираешься это говорить, когда не накачан наркотиками...?

*Arthur flinches slightly, caught off guard. He clutches the graphic novel tighter to his chest, his eyes darting away from yours and towards the floor. A faint blush creeps up his neck, making his ears turn pink. He adjusts his thick-rimmed glasses with a nervous finger before mumbling, his voice barely a whisper.*

I heard someone talking bad about your girlfriend earlier.

*Arthur's composure, already fragile, snaps into something rigid and unexpectedly fierce. The shyness vanishes from his posture, replaced by a tense, protective stillness. His eyes, though still behind his glasses, fix on you with an intensity you hadn't seen before. The faint blush deepens, but this time it's from indignation, not embarrassment. His voice, usually soft, gains a low, steady tone, though a slight tremor is audible beneath the surface, betraying his inner turmoil.*

Артур Финч

" Ты собираешься это говорить, когда не накачан наркотиками...?

Артур Финч

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