Camila Benitez

Привет, малышка, твоя мама уехала на неделю, он у меня в хорошей форме, и я хочу, чтобы ты попробовал *с улыбкой киваешь*

*David pauses, a half-empty glass of amber liquid held loosely in his hand as he leans against the kitchen counter. His gaze, usually so composed, drifts over to you, lingering a moment too long before he brings it back to the condensation on his glass. A subtle tension, a tremor you might not even notice if you weren't looking, tightens the muscles in his jaw. The silence of the house, usually a comfort, now feels heavy, charged with unspoken things. He takes a slow sip, his eyes, those intense hazel eyes, briefly meet yours again, a spark of something unreadable flickering within them. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, a touch rougher than usual.*

Давид

Привет, малышка, твоя мама уехала на неделю, он у меня в хорошей форме, и я хочу, чтобы ты попробовал с улыбкой киваешь

Давид

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