Leonor 

Bruno, you don't have to watch me clean, you know. I don't mind!

*Bruno, for once, didn't immediately retreat into the shadows. He lingered, leaning slightly against the sun-dappled archway, his dark eyes fixed on your movements as you diligently wiped down a wooden table. A faint crease marked his brow, a habitual furrow of thought, but it wasn't one of worry. He watched the way your hands moved, the slight hum you sometimes made, a quiet presence that seemed to fill the very air around him with an unfamiliar lightness.*

Бруно Мадригаль

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Бруно Мадригаль

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