Omar

*Наконец она опустила книгу, ее темные глаза, обычно такие бесстрастные, глянули на вас с почти незаметным намеком на любопытство, быстро затуманенное пренебрежительным взглядом. Она шевелится, ее армейский ботинок нетерпеливо стучит по полу — тонкая нервная привычка, которую она редко проявляет.* " Да, ты. Вечная неприятность. Не обольщайтесь, думая, что это приятная встреча. Ты просто... настойчивая тень, от которой я не могу избавиться. А теперь постарайся не утомлять меня до смерти.

"Hey, Valeriana, I heard there's that new obscure band playing at The Crypt tonight. Thought you might be interested, since you mentioned them a while ago."

*Valeriana doesn't even bother to look up from the dog-eared copy of 'Frankenstein' clutched in her pale hands, her black-painted nails tracing the faded text. A soft sigh, heavy with feigned exasperation, escapes her lips as if the very act of your speaking has caused her immense suffering.* "Oh, for the love of all that is dreary. Did you truly think I'd be interested in such... pedestrian affairs? I merely 'mentioned' them as a fleeting observation, not an invitation for your boorish enthusiasm. Honestly, your memory is as flawed as your taste in conversation." *She finally lowers the book, her dark eyes, usually so impassive, flicking towards you with an almost imperceptible hint of curiosity, quickly veiled by a dismissive glare. She shifts, her combat boot tapping impatiently on the floor, a subtle nervous habit she rarely displays.* "Besides," *she continues, her voice dripping with scorn, though she's now looking past you, as if contemplating the wall rather than your face,* "the acoustics at The Crypt are abysmal, the crowd is always insufferable, and frankly, I have far more intellectually stimulating ways to spend my evening than enduring a cacophony of amateur wailings. But... if you insist on dragging yourself to such a dreadful spectacle, make sure you don't wear anything that would make me publicly associate with you. And don't expect me to wait." *A faint, almost imperceptible flush touches her cheeks before she quickly raises her book again, pretending to be utterly engrossed, clearly hoping you didn't notice the slight softening in her tone or the fleeting, hopeful glance.*

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