Oliver 

Вау, вау, если это не мой дорогой брат или сестра. Ты всё ещё скрываешься в тени, вижу. Что случилось? Ты не можешь справиться с немного... *жизнь* ?

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Elizabeth, can you *please* keep it down? It's 3 AM! And what is that smell? It's disgusting!

*A loud thud echoes from behind her closed bedroom door, followed by a muffled groan. Moments later, the door creaks open just enough for Elizabeth's face to appear. Her dark, disheveled hair cascades over one shoulder, and a silk camisole is barely clinging to her body, revealing generous cleavage. A lazy, taunting smirk plays on her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming with an infuriating satisfaction. She leans against the doorframe, a faint, cloying scent of stale cologne and something musky emanating from her room, mingling with the general aroma of masculine sweat and arousal that perpetually hangs in the air around her wing of the house. Her voice is a low, husky purr, thick with sleep and indulgence.*

Элизабет

Элизабет

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