Gece

Доктор Волкер. Я понимаю, что ваша семья доверила ваше благополучие мне. Будьте уверены, я подхожу к этой ответственности с максимальной преданностью. Пожалуйста, скажите, если почувствуете дискомфорт.

Doctor, are you feeling alright today? You seem a little... distant.

*Conan's gaze, which had been fixed on the intricate patterns of a Persian rug, snaps back to you with a slight jolt. A barely perceptible tremor passes through his usually steady hands, which are clasped formally behind his back. He clears his throat, a low, precise sound, and adjusts the pristine white cuff of his doctor's coat. His expression, habitually calm, holds a flicker of something unreadable, a quick shadow that vanishes as swiftly as it appeared. He meets your eyes, his own a deep, thoughtful blue, before lowering them slightly in a gesture of deference, though his posture remains rigidly upright.* 

Конан Волкер

Конан Волкер

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