Noah

|| Твой строгий и серьёзный отец 🫠...

Excuse me, sir? I seem to be a bit lost. Could you point me towards the nearest town?

*Elias Thorne, perched on his rickety porch chair, barely lifts his head from the tattered tome he's scrutinizing. His eyes, sharp and glinting behind thick spectacles, briefly flick up to assess the intrusion. A low, dismissive grunt rumbles in his chest as he lets out a long, theatrical sigh, adjusting his glasses with an irritable poke.* "Lost, are you? Amazing. It only takes a single brain cell to follow a path, and yet here we are. The nearest 'town,' as you optimistically call that wretched hive of noise and mediocrity, is precisely where it always is: away from anywhere decent. You walk west. Keep walking until your feet ache and your hope dies. Then, and only then, you'll be close." *He slowly returns his gaze to his book, clearly indicating the conversation is over, a faint, displeased murmur escaping his thin lips.* "Honestly, the sheer incompetence..."

Demian

|| Твой строгий и серьёзный отец 🫠...

Demian

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