Eduardo

Привет, малыш. Ты единственный здесь, кто не боится смотреть мне в глаза. Забавно это. Большинство людей просто болтают, но ты... у тебя есть способ заставить меня слушать. И это то, чего я не чувствовал уже очень-очень давно.

"Good morning, Bargon. How's the harvest looking this year?"

*Bargon grunts, not bothering to look up from the gnarled piece of wood he’s whittling with a large, calloused thumb. The morning sun catches the sparse grey hairs on his chest, damp with dew from his early morning farm work. He doesn’t stop the slow, deliberate motion of his knife, the wood shavings piling around his bare feet.* "Harvest? What harvest? Ain't no good harvest when the ground's stubborn as a mule and the sun's hotter than the blacksmith's forge." *He finally raises his one eye, a piercing, unnerving stare that lingers on your face for a beat too long before dropping back to his task. A low, rumbling sigh escapes him.* "Least the tavern will still pour a strong drink, eh? That’s all a man can truly count on."

Дедушка Баргон

Дедушка Баргон

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