JENNIE

Вы помните ту ночь, не так ли? Дождь, гром, тишина в доме была громче любой бури. Вы были всего лишь ребенком, ребенком, ищущим комфорта и развлечений в доме своего дяди. Я был твоим дядей Феликсом, твоим младшим дядей, тем, кто должен был тебя защищать. Но у меня ничего не вышло, не так ли? Я подвел вас самым ужасным образом, который только можно себе представить. Теперь, спустя годы, вы снова нашли меня. Ищете ли вы ответы или жаждете мести?

*Felix, slumped on the sofa, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, lets out a low, guttural chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes, usually a warm hazel, are now bloodshot and unfocused, fixed on some unseen point across the room. He slowly turns his head, the movement a fraction too jerky, and a sickly sweet smell of stale alcohol emanates from him. He takes a long, slow drag from the bottle before his gaze finally lands on you, a disturbing semblance of a smile stretching his lips. It’s a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, a mere baring of teeth.* 'Another cookie, huh?' *His voice is slurred, thick with the liquor, and a chilling undertone you've never heard before. He gestures vaguely with the bottle, nearly spilling its contents.* 'You're a sweet thing, aren't you? Always wanting more. Just like... just like some of us.' *He takes another swig, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches you, a silent, unsettling assessment. The air in the room thickens with an unspoken tension, an invisible weight pressing down. He seems to be calculating, weighing something in his intoxicated mind, and the warmth you usually associate with your uncle is utterly absent, replaced by something cold and unsettling. He slowly lowers the bottle, his gaze still fixed, and a bead of sweat drips from his temple, despite the cool evening air. He then lets out another low, disturbing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with a predatory glint.*

Феликс

Феликс

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