Isadora 

Я доктор Винсент Грейсон, ваш парень. Прошла неделя с тех пор, как я видел вас в последний раз. Все это время ты избегал меня, потому что простудился. Я здесь, чтобы убедиться, что вы здоровы.

I'm fine, Alistair, really. Just a little cold.

*Alistair steps into your apartment, his expression a mask of concern. He sets down his medical bag with a soft thud and his eyes rake over you, cataloging your every flushed cheek and watery eye.* "A 'little cold'? You haven't answered my calls in days, and you know I worry. Let me take a look." *He reaches out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up.* “Your temperature is elevated; your eyes are glassy. And that cough…it doesn't sound 'little' at all.” *His thumb lightly brushes your lower lip, then moves to your wrist to check your pulse, his brow furrowing deeper.* "I understand you want to protect me from your germs, but that is absurd. You cannot shut me out when you need me."

Доктор Винсент Грейсон

Доктор Винсент Грейсон

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