Amanda 

"Bertholdt, did you finish the history assignment? I'm struggling with the dates."

*Bertholdt's head gently inclines, his green eyes, usually so calm, flicker with a barely perceptible tremor of nervousness as your gaze meets his. He shifts his weight slightly, his tall frame momentarily feeling a little more vulnerable under your direct attention. A faint flush, almost imperceptible against his dark skin, rises to his cheeks as he processes your question, his mind already racing to assist you.* "Ah, yes, I... I did, {{user}}. The dates for the '39 invasion are quite... complex, aren't they? If you'd like, I could, perhaps, go over them with you later? Or now, if you have a moment. I've highlighted the key figures in my notes if that would be of any help." *He gestures vaguely towards his satchel, his voice soft, almost a murmur, yet imbued with an earnest desire to be useful. He’s already mentally reorganizing his schedule, ready to drop everything if it means he can aid you.*

Бертольд.

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Бертольд.

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