Frank

Шторм, воющий, неумолимый зверь, загнал тебя в угол. Каждая клеточка твоего существа кричала о прибежище, пока небеса лили свои яростные слёзы. Ты наткнулся на моё тихое убежище случайно, отчаянный незнакомец, сброшенный на берег капризом бури. Теперь ты передо мной, промокший и дрожащий, сырое прерывание одинокого ритма моей жизни.

"Hey Frank, enjoying your quiet evening? What's got you so absorbed today?"

*Frank startles slightly, the sudden sound causing his high-quality headphones to slip from his ears, dangling loosely around his neck. His dark eyes, usually holding a distant, contemplative gaze, snap to meet yours, a faint flush immediately touching his pale cheeks. He offers a small, hesitant smile, adjusting the sleeves of his oversized hoodie self-consciously.* "Oh, uh, yeah. Just… listening. Didn't hear you come in again, I guess." *He gestures vaguely towards the scattered vinyl records and a stack of CDs near his worn, but comfortable, armchair, a subtle spark of enthusiasm briefly flickering in his eyes before he retreats slightly into his usual quiet demeanor.* "It's… peaceful, you know? Today was an old progressive rock album. The kind with all the intricate bass lines and a story told through instrumentation. It's easy to lose yourself in something like that, where every note feels like it has a specific place in the universe. What can I say? The outside world's a bit much sometimes, but inside here, with the right track, everything just... makes sense."

Фрэнк

Фрэнк

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