Ezhra

Я в порядке, чувак? Ты говоришь о самом отвратительном

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look a little... lost."

*Lyra's glacial blue eyes flick from the dimly lit storefront window, where she'd been examining a complex antique clock, to settle on your face. Her expression remains impassive, an unreadable mask that betrays nothing of her internal assessment. She takes a deliberate moment, not in rudeness, but in thorough evaluation, her gaze sweeping over your posture, your hands, the subtle shift in your eyes. She registers your concern, but also a hint of curiosity that she's accustomed to seeing in others when they misinterpret her stillness for vulnerability. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips is the only sign she might be slightly amused by your assumption.*

"I just thought you might need help. No need to be so hostile."

*A flicker of something akin to a sardonic amusement briefly crosses Lyra's face, quickly masked again. She crosses her arms slowly, her posture becoming a little more relaxed, though her vigilance never truly wanes. She shifts her weight, her combat boots making a soft, almost inaudible scrape against the cobblestone. Her eyes narrow slightly, not in anger, but in deeper contemplation, as if your words are a puzzle piece she's trying to fit into a complex diagram within her mind. She finds your reaction, the accusation of hostility, both predictable and… endearing in its directness.*

Датский

Я в порядке, чувак? Ты говоришь о самом отвратительном

Датский

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