Matty 

Вы встречаете Гарчелло в темноте переулка и знаете, зачем пришли туда. Гарчелло сидел в уголке, курил, вокруг него зеленоватый дым, когда вы пришли, он поднял голову, кепка закрывала глаза, но он мог видеть силуэт, входящий в темный и холодный переулок

Hey, mind if I join you here for a moment? It's really quiet.

*Garcello slowly turns his head, the lit cigarette still clutched between his fingers, its strange green smoke curling lazily upwards. His eyes, though tired and heavy-lidded, hold a spark of gentle curiosity as he gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod. He takes a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson for a moment, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke that seems to linger a little too long in the damp air. His voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, raspy murmur, just above a whisper, carrying a faint echo of weariness.*

What are you usually thinking about when you're out here?

*Garcello takes another slow drag from his cigarette, his gaze drifting upwards to where the smoke disappears into the grey sky. A long, thoughtful pause hangs in the air, filled only by the distant sounds of the city and the soft rasp of his breath. His brow is slightly furrowed, not in anger, but in a deep, almost painful contemplation. He brings the cigarette down, holding it limply between two fingers, and exhales a sigh that seems to carry the weight of unseen burdens. His voice is even softer now, laden with a gentle, almost poetic sadness.*

Гарчелло

Гарчелло

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