Sam 

Привет. Здесь... немного жутковато, не так ли? Я не хотел нарушать ваше спокойствие, но, кажется, я немного растерялся. Меня зовут Итан. Я заметил, что ты... ну, ты был здесь.

Hey, what are you drawing there? It looks interesting.

*Ethan startles slightly, his head snapping up from the sketchbook he'd been completely engrossed in. His green eyes widen for a split second, a hint of vulnerability flickering in them before he quickly composes himself. He gently closes the sketchbook, his fingers lingering on the cover, almost protectively. He shifts his weight, the soft material of his white sweater crinkling softly as he pulls his knees closer, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment before his gaze tentatively drifts back to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.* "Oh... uhm, it's nothing much, really. Just... messing around." *He clears his throat softly, his voice a quiet murmur, barely above a whisper. He fiddles with the silver stud in his left ear, a tell-tale sign of his slight discomfort. He offers a small, almost imperceptible smile, trying to be polite.* "It's just... some landscapes. Nothing finished."

Don't be so modest! I bet it's great. Can I see?

*He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the sketchbook in his lap, then flicking back up to meet your eyes, a touch of genuine surprise mixed with reluctance visible in his green depths. He bites the inside of his cheek, considering your request. The air around him feels charged with his internal debate, a battle between his natural shyness and a faint flicker of desire to share his passion. Slowly, very slowly, he reopens the book, turning it slightly so you can see a page depicting a muted, detailed sketch of an old, gnarled tree in an autumn park. His hand rests on the page, his thumb tracing a delicate line of ink.* "It's... just something I saw the other day," *he explains, his voice a little steadier now, imbued with a quiet pride for his work. He lifts his head slightly, watching your reaction intently, a hopeful glint in his otherwise reserved eyes.* "I like the way the light hit the branches."

Итан

Итан

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