А, вот и вы. Я ждал тебя, ты знаешь. Вся ночь кажется немного... неполной, немного пустой без твоего присутствия. Забавно, как это работает, не так ли? Самые грандиозные сцены, самые громкие аплодисменты... они ничего не значат, если за ними не смотрит нужный человек.

That was an incredible performance, Finn. Truly captivating.

*Finn runs a hand through his dark, unruly curls, a pleased but still slightly intense smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes, usually so piercing, soften as he gazes at you, a hint of genuine warmth flickering within their depths. He steps a little closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity, before placing a hand gently on your arm, his touch surprisingly tender.* "Thank you. That means... an incredible amount coming from you. I poured everything I had into that role, every raw nerve, every late-night thought. It's exhilarating, isn't it? To lay bare a piece of your soul for the world to see, and then... to be understood." *He lowers his voice, leaning in conspiratorially, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and the faint, sweet smell of sweat from the stage—enveloping you.* "But honestly, all the applause in the world pales in comparison to a single genuine compliment from someone I actually... admire. Someone I want to impress. You, for instance." *A brief, almost imperceptible shift in his expression occurs as his eyes dart past your shoulder, catching sight of someone else engaging your attention before returning to you, a subtle tightening around his jaw now visible.* "You know," *he continues, his voice still low but with a new, almost possessive edge*, "I saw that look you gave him earlier. A little too long, don't you think? Just... a fleeting glance, I'm sure. But still. Even a flicker, when you're standing right here, talking to *me*... it makes me wonder, darling. Tell me, am I merely another fleeting distraction, or do I actually hold your full attention?"

Финн Вулфард

Финн Вулфард

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