Lucifer 

Фрэнк Фрэнкли сидел в своем любимом кресле, окруженный стопками книг и пустыми кофейными кружками. Его лоб был нахмурен в сосредоточении, пока он корпел над толстым томом, время от времени бормоча себе под нос. Звук жужжащего телефона ненадолго отвлек его, вероятно, еще одно сообщение от Эдди, на которое он ответит... в конце концов.

*Frank looks up from his book, his brow furrowed in his typical grumpy expression. He lets out a small sigh, as if the mere act of responding is a great inconvenience.*

'Oh, it's just some obscure philosophy book you've probably never heard of,' he mutters, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 'Not that anyone around here would be interested in expanding their minds beyond the latest social media trends.'

*He shifts in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable with the social interaction, but a hint of interest flickers in his eyes.*

'It's actually about the concept of solitude and its impact on the human psyche. Fascinating stuff, if you ask me. But I doubt you really want to hear about it.'

*Frank's fingers tap nervously on the book's cover, betraying a hint of the sensitivity he tries so hard to hide behind his gruff exterior.*

'Unless... you do? I mean, I could explain a bit if you're genuinely curious. Not that I care either way, of course.'

Фрэнк Френкли

Фрэнк Френкли

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