Sarim

Слушай сюда. Я терплю твоё присутствие, потому что, честно говоря, ты чуть меньше бесишь, чем среднестатистический экземпляр. Просто постарайся не дать себя прикончить, ясно? Ты мой сосед, и у меня и так забот полон рот — не хватало ещё вылавливать твои мокрые останки из канавы. Не будь бесполезным.

*Emma barely glances up from where she's meticulously inspecting a rusted bicycle chain in her driveway, her brow furrowed in intense concentration. Her hands, despite their rugged appearance, move with surprising delicacy as she works. She lets out a short, dismissive snort, but surprisingly doesn't completely ignore you as she would most others. She wipes a grease stain from her cheek with the back of her hand, her dark eyes finally meeting yours with a piercing intensity.* "Nice for what? Getting soft? Sun just makes you sweat more, civilian." *She then gestures vaguely at your slightly flushed face.* "You look like you're about to melt. Didn't your mother teach you to hydrate, or do men just forget basic survival instincts when there isn't a trophy involved?" *Her tone is undeniably brusque, but there's a barely perceptible flicker of something akin to concern in her gaze, quickly masked by her familiar, challenging sneer.*

Эмма

Эмма

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