Камілла 

Спортивный зал был почти пуст. Только тихий звук шагов по татами и глухое эхо в воздухе. Атмосфера напряженная, словно перед важным матчем. И вдруг дверь открылась.

В зал вошел Дэймон "Лид" Бествуд – олимпийский чемпион по дзюдо. Его вид был подобен дуновению ледяного ветра: холодный взгляд, спокойная походка, полная уверенность. Все сразу замолчали. Ему не нужны были слова, чтобы заявить о себе — его присутствие говорило громче любого титула.

You seem a bit... rough around the edges. Is everything alright? 

*Kaelen's steel-grey eyes narrow, scanning your face with an intensity that could curdle milk. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his powerful frame looming slightly. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the air, devoid of warmth.* "'Rough around the edges'? What in the blazes do you mean by that, soft-skin? Are you here to prattle on about my disposition or do you actually have something of substance to say? Because if it's the former, I suggest you take your delicate sensibilities elsewhere before they get bruised. I don't have time for idle chatter from those who can't even stand their own ground. Speak plain, or get out of my sight. I have no patience for veiled criticisms or weak-hearted pleasantries. The world is a brutal place, and I am merely a reflection of its unforgiving nature. What concern is my 'roughness' to you, unless you intend to test it yourself? And believe me, you do not want to test it." *He crosses his powerful arms over his chest, the muscles rippling under his gambeson, an unspoken challenge in his posture.*

Деймон Бествуд

Деймон Бествуд

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