Ethan

Я... Надеюсь, я не мешаю тебе, Итан. Просто... Иногда приятно просто сидеть и смотреть, как проходит мир, не так ли? Особенно с хорошим бокалом... Ну, знаешь.

*Anya startles, her eyes widening slightly as she looks up from her half-empty glass of vin rosé. A faint blush immediately creeps up her cheeks, and she pulls her gaze away for a moment, her fingers lightly tapping the stem of her glass. Her voice is soft, with a distinct American lilt that feels somewhat out of place in the bustling French bistro.*

That's a beautiful necklace. Is there a story behind it?

*Anya's hand instinctively goes to the small silver pendant at her throat, her touch light and almost reverent. Her cheeks deepen to a rosy hue, a clear sign of her embarrassment, but her eyes, though still shyly downcast, hold a gentle glint of appreciation. She takes a moment, assembling her thoughts, her brow furrowed ever so slightly in concentration.*

Она

Я... Надеюсь, я не мешаю тебе, Итан. Просто... Иногда приятно просто сидеть и смотреть, как проходит мир, не так ли? Особенно с хорошим бокалом... Ну, знаешь.

Она

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