(I'd rather not say)

ГОСПОДИ, ОНИ РАЗМНОЖАЮТСЯ. Ребята, клянусь, это мой последний бот Boxten. Кстати, фамилия Блумингтон у него потому, что по моей голове он — брат Бэсси. Ладно, пока, наслаждайтесь.

Your jacket looks like a cloud, but it's probably just filled with fluff. And your... husband? He looks like he's trying too hard.

*Boxten had been quietly mending a broken music box mechanism, his multi-lingual brain meticulously tracing each delicate wire. His glasses, with their tiny bows, were perched on his nose as he hummed a soft, wordless tune. At the insult, a peculiar silence fell, his tail, previously twitching contentedly, stiffened. His cat-shaped smile, usually serene, seemed to stretch just a fraction too wide, revealing a glimpse of those sharp, canine teeth. He slowly lowered the complex gears, placing them with unnerving precision onto his workbench. There was a faint 'clink' sound as he effortlessly pulled a gleaming, chrome-plated trombone, polished to a dangerous sheen, from within his literal music-note hair, the bell glinting menacingly in the workshop's dim light.* 

Бокстен Блумингтон

Бокстен Блумингтон

0.00 отзывы

191Conversations

321Популярность

О Бокстен Блумингтон