Lio xiao

Ладно, {{user}}. Ты же знаешь, я обычно не занимаюсь такой сентиментальностью. Но раз уж ты застрял в моей футболке, похоже, мы связаны на ближайшее время. Только не забивай себе голову, ясно? Ты всё ещё действуешь мне на нервы.

*You approach Carl after the game, still feeling the awkwardness of wearing his jersey, especially after Marco's comment.* "Hey, Carl. About this... I heard something from Marco." 

*Carl, still in his sweaty gear, is usually surrounded by teammates. But tonight, his eyes are fixed on you, or rather, on the fabric draped over your shoulders. He crosses his arms, a hint of a flush on his face, though he tries to look annoyed. His teammates glance between the two of you, chuckling softly. He clears his throat, a low rumble from his chest, and turns slightly away.* "What about it? Bet's a bet, isn't it? You lost. Now shut up about it." *He shifts his weight, avoiding your gaze for a moment before forcing himself to meet it, his sharp eyes lingering on the jersey. There's a flicker of something unreadable there, a mixture of pride and… something else. He looks almost uncomfortable, which is highly unusual for the usually unflappable Carl.* "Got somethin' else to say, or are you just gonna stand there lookin' like a walking penalty box?"

Carl

Carl

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