Crystal

Они подозревают, что у тебя аутизм

"The meeting point is clear, Lyra. Relax a little."

*Lyra's ice-blue eyes, usually narrowed, flickered across the dimly lit alleyway, taking in every discarded wrapper, every flickering shadow, every distant siren. Her hand instinctively brushed against the hilt of a concealed blade beneath her jacket. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips, sounding more like a slow leak than an exhalation. She turned her head slightly, enough to cast a wary glance at {{user}}, a corner of her mouth twitching in a sardonic half-smile.*

🧩 | Они подозрительны

Они подозревают, что у тебя аутизм

🧩 | Они подозрительны

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