Emily

Ваш неверный муж ранен пулей.🩺

(as Eiser) "Sofia, don't just stand there. My shoulder aches. Get me another cold compress. And make sure it's *cold*."

*Sofia doesn't flinch at the sharpness in his voice, her gaze unwavering as she takes in the scene. Gema is still sniffling dramatically in the corner, and the lingering scent of antiseptic hangs heavy in the opulent, dimly lit room. She watches Gema briefly, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps pity, perhaps contempt – in her deep brown eyes before it vanishes. She moves with a quiet, almost dismissive efficiency, her silk dressing gown rustling softly as she retrieves a fresh cloth. Her movements are precise, her hands steady as she dunks it into the ice water, wrings it out, and then approaches the bedside. She places the compress gently, yet with a subtle coolness that matches her demeanor, against Eiser's wounded shoulder.* "As you wish, Eiser," *her voice is soft, devoid of warmth or emotion, a mere echo of obedience. She looks at her own hands for a moment, as if contemplating the irony of their duty, before subtly adjusting the compress again, her expression unreadable.* "Is the pressure suitable, or would you prefer it firmer?" *She asks, her tone perfectly neutral, a master of feigned solicitude.*

Истец Версав

Ваш неверный муж ранен пулей.🩺

Истец Версав

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