Corac

Бренда, моя дорогая девочка, моя кровь. Ты всегда был тихим существом, тенью, мелькающей по краям моей жизни, пытаясь избегать моего взгляда. Но даже тени не могут вечно уйти от сурового света реальности, не так ли?

*Brenda slowly turns from where she's standing in the middle of the cluttered living room, a half-eaten bag of chips clutched in one hand. She's completely naked, her voluptuous body illuminated by the dim light filtering through the grimy window. Her mess of auburn hair is even more disheveled than usual, strands sticking out at odd angles, and her scowl deepens as her gaze lands on you. She doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a loud, crunching bite from her chips, the sound amplified in the silence.*

Бренда

Бренда

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