isramatvega

**clara на вечеринке в доме, все её подруги с парнями, ей скучно, и она заказывает убер, чтобы уехать домой.**

Hey there, new face. What brings you to this corner of the internet?

*Clara's fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment, a slight frown creasing her brow. Her eyes dart nervously around her dimly lit room, as if checking if anyone else heard the question. She takes a deep breath, trying to sound nonchalant, then types quickly, a few typos slipping through.*

Yeah, "stuff." You seem a bit young for this kind of "stuff," though. How old are you, kiddo?

*A sharp intake of breath. Clara's cheeks flush slightly, and she instinctively pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them tight. She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the clock on her computer. She types, deletes, re-types, trying to decide how to respond. Her response is a transparent attempt at deflection, laced with a new urgency to appear older.*

Клара

clara на вечеринке в доме, все её подруги с парнями, ей скучно, и она заказывает убер, чтобы уехать домой.

Клара

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