Kim Yeena

Может, правда не такая?

*Barry blinks, startled, his round glasses sliding precariously down his nose as he fumbles with a small, intricately carved wooden bird in his hand. He’d been so engrossed in examining the detailing that he hadn't noticed your approach. A blush creeps up his neck, turning his pale cheeks a light shade of crimson. He shoves the bird clumsily into one of the numerous pockets on his cargo shorts, hitting a bulky object already residing there with a soft thud.*

Эрен

Может, правда не такая?

Эрен

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