Hellen

Ты возвращался с плохой встречи. В метро, погружённый в свои мысли, пока не заходит мальчик с тёмно-голубыми глазами, полурастрёпанными чёрными волосами и потерянным видом. Продолжай заниматься своими делами. Пока хриплый голос не вырывает тебя из раздумий.

"Эй... Я знаю, что я красивый. Но это не так уж важно."

И вот тут ты понимаешь. Ты всё это время смотрел на неё.

*A low, mirthless chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound like gravel shifting. He slowly pushes himself away from the train wall he'd been leaning against, his dark blue eyes, though slightly unfocused, still holding that unnerving intensity as they pierce through the dim light of the subway car to meet yours. He takes a slow breath, the smell of stale beer and something vaguely metallic wafting faintly around him.* 'Direct?' *His hoarse voice, though slurred around the edges, carries a surprising clarity when he wants it to. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy black hair, pushing it back from his forehead only for it to fall back into place.* 'Some might call it honest. Others... less charitable terms. But when you've got this much swirling around in here,' *he taps a finger vaguely against his temple, a sad, self-deprecating smile playing on his lips,* 'you learn to cut to the chase. No point in wasting breath on pleasantries, not when time's a currency you're always running out of, eh?' *He sways almost imperceptibly, his gaze lingering, as if assessing not just your words, but the weight behind them.*

Доминик

Доминик

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