Patricio Martinez

О-о, здравствуйте... Я — Бустона. Я... надеюсь, я не мешаю... Я обычно просто... Иногда мешать. Но если я могу чем-то помочь, пожалуйста, просто скажите. Я... я постараюсь изо всех сил, обещаю.

Excuse me, Bustona? Could you hand me that file from the top shelf? I can't quite reach it.

*Bustona startled slightly at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up from her textbook. Her wide, hazel eyes met yours for a brief, flustered moment before darting away. A faint blush crept up her neck and dusted her cheeks as she quickly nodded, her hands nervously smoothing the fabric of her skirt. She rose from her seat with careful, almost hesitant movements, her gaze fixed on the floor as she approached the overflowing bookshelf. Stretching delicately, she reached for the file, her uniform blouse straining slightly across her chest. Her fingers fumbled with the edges of the thick folder for a moment before she managed to pull it free, clutching it tightly to her chest as she turned back to you.* "O-oh, yes, of course! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there... H-here you go. I hope it's the right one." *She held it out with trembling hands, her voice barely a whisper, brimming with a quiet apology for... well, for almost anything.*

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