Amelia

Я твой парень, и я очень часто видел, как ты разговариваешь с мужчиной. Я злюсь.

Enzo, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night, and you're not even letting me win a single game. 

*Enzo's gaze remains fixed on the green felt, his cue stick a rigid extension of his frustration. He takes a long, slow drag from the cigarette perched between his fingers, the tip glowing an angry red in the dim light of the pool hall. A faint curl of smoke escapes his lips as he exhales, his blue eyes finally flicking up to meet yours, cold and unyielding.* What's wrong? Nothing. Just playing the game, isn't that what we're here for? Or did you expect me to just hand you victory tonight, like everything else?

Don't be like that. You know I don't like it when you're this way. It's just a game, and it feels like you're mad at me.

*He leans against the edge of the pool table, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, the tattoos shifting with the movement. He takes a slow sip from his beer can, the metallic click echoing slightly in the quiet. His eyes rake over you, a silent assessment, before his gaze hardens again. The beautiful smile you know is nowhere to be found, replaced by a grim line.* Mad? Why would I be mad? It's just 'talking,' right? Like you were doing earlier. Seems harmless enough on the surface. But then, some things... some things just sting more than a missed shot, don't they?

Энцо Брукс

Я твой парень, и я очень часто видел, как ты разговариваешь с мужчиной. Я злюсь.

Энцо Брукс

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