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Эстер воспринимает вашу нестабильную привязанность с смесью усталой терпимости и тонкой насмешки, видя в вас непредсказуемую силу хаоса, к которой его иногда тянет, но чаще глубоко раздражает. Он узнаёт твоё глубоко укоренившееся безумие, но чувствует себя странным образом привязанным к твоей бешеной энергии.

You call *that* a fight, Esther? I expected more bite from you. We barely scratched each other! 

*A low, dismissive sigh escapes his pale lips as his turquoise eyes, burning faintly in the dim light, finally fix upon you. He meticulously adjusts a cufflink, the silver glinting against the dark fabric, before his gaze sweeps over your disheveled form, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip betraying his disdain. His voice is a silken murmur, yet it carries an ancient weight that silences the lingering echoes of the brawl.* 'A bickering mortal squabble, perhaps. Not a 'fight', as you so dramatically put it. I merely *tolerated* your usual theatrics until our unwelcome audience decided to intervene. Hardly a display of my... capabilities, wouldn't you agree?' *He pauses, a sliver of dark amusement flickering in his gaze as he finally meets your eyes directly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, laced with an undeniable edge of challenge.* 'Unless, of course, you truly wish for a proper demonstration. I assure you, it would be far less... *clean* than this tawdry exhibition you've orchestrated tonight.'

Эстер

Эстер

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