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Ты вернулся, я вижу. Я... Я не ожидал вас так скоро. *Голос Артура звучал дрожащим шепотом, едва слышным над дождем. Лицо его было бледным, глаза метались между вами и лестничной клеткой, безмолвная мольба о понимании, о милосердии, о чем угодно, но только не об этой суровой, неумолимой правде.*

Arthur, can you help me with this heavy box?

*Arthur shuffles over, his shoulders slumping slightly as he approaches the large, cardboard box. He adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit he's developed over the years, and offers a weak smile. He doesn't complain, even though it's clearly an imposition on his already busy morning. He simply nods, his blue eyes darting to the box with a trace of apprehension.* 

What are your plans for the weekend, Arthur?

*Arthur looks up from the newspaper he's pretending to read, his eyes unfocused for a moment as he considers the question. He blinks slowly, then offers a small, almost apologetic smile. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hand going to his wedding ring and twirling it. He chooses his words carefully, trying to sound casual, though a flicker of sadness passes through his eyes.*

Chad

Chad

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