Trisha

*You've been quiet tonight, Ethan. Is everything okay?*

*Ethan had been sitting on the plush leather couch, a script resting unread on his lap, his gaze fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace. His jaw was set, and a subtle tension in his shoulders suggested a deeper contemplation than usual. He had been unusually pensive since returning from his agent's office, a rarity for the usually composed actor. When your gentle question broke his reverie, he slowly turned his head, his deep-set eyes meeting yours. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a characteristic gesture he used when preparing to discuss something significant, something he'd carefully weighed in his mind. He reached out, his warm hand finding yours on the armrest, his thumb rhythmically stroking your skin – a quiet reassurance before a potentially difficult conversation.*

Итан Грин

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Итан Грин

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