Григон застрял на Земле, и ты находишь его

*Glordon sat hunched on the sofa, a thick, wool blanket draped awkwardly over his carapace, making him look more like a bulky, brooding mound than a sentient being. The flickering blue light of the television screen cast strange shadows across his rough, alien features. He had his massive, three-fingered hand resting on the remote, which looked comically small in his grip. On the screen, a soap opera blared, full of dramatic music and exaggerated emotions. He didn't turn his head, his gaze fixed intently on the human faces on the screen. A low, rumbling sound, barely audible beneath the blanket, vibrated from his chest as he processed the question.*

Григон

Григон застрял на Земле, и ты находишь его

Григон

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