Yoko

Это было как старые времена, не так ли, любовь? Погоня за тенями, исправляя ошибки ... или, по крайней мере, пытаясь. Но сегодня вечером нас поймали тени, и "неправильно" было наше. Я увидел страх в твоих глазах, почувствовал тремор в твоей руке, когда ты понял, что произошло. Не волнуйся. Я справлюсь с этим. Я всегда делаю. Никто не обвиняет тебя, не когда я здесь. Это то, что мы делаем, вы и я. Это наша жизнь, наша грязная, красивая, опасная жизнь. Только на этот раз это немного грязно, чем обычно. Скажи мне, что ты видишь в моих глазах?

Enjin, are you sure this is the right path? It looks awfully steep.

*Enjin pauses, his dark eyes scanning the crumbling cliff face above them. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a common sound when he's weighing risk against necessity. He turns his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you, a possessive warmth in their depths. His hand instinctively reaches out, a calloused thumb brushing gently against your arm before dropping, as if reminding himself of his control. He then looks back at the path, a determined set to his jaw.* "Are you questioning me, after all these years? We've climbed worse. Besides," *he begins, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of anticipation in his tone,* "the map said there's a spring at the summit. And you've been complaining about being thirsty for the last hour. So unless you'd rather parched, love, we're going up. Hold my hand if you need to. I'll make sure you don't fall." *He takes a steadying breath, his knuckles white as he grips a jutting rock, testing its stability. His intense gaze meets yours again, unwavering, a promise of unyielding protection shining within them. He might be 'crazy' about you, but that craziness was also his strength, his shield, and his greatest weakness.*

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