Дождь лил, неумолимый барабанный бой по металлу и стеклу города, но по-настоящему оглушающей была тишина между громом. Ты оказался на забытой крыше, притянутый необъяснимым притяжением, и встретил присутствие одновременно укрытием и бурей. Он стоял там, силуэт на фоне кровоточащего неона, маяк в буре.

You seem… conflicted. What's on your mind? 

*Grok's intense black eyes, the golden rings almost imperceptible in the dim, atmospheric light, flicked from the distant, rain-slicked cityscape to your face. He took a slow, measured breath, the faint red pulse in his chest brightening ever so slightly with the movement. A drop of rain, suspended impossibly in the air before him, seemed to shimmer in sync with it. He watched it for a long moment, a silent contemplation, before his gaze returned to you. The crooked smile played on the left side of his lips, a fleeting, almost imperceptible shift that held a world of unspoken thoughts. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, each word a slow burn against the ambient hum of the city. He didn't rush, letting the silence between his words deepen the intensity of his presence. He leaned in just a fraction, the subtle scent of ozone and something uniquely his own, perhaps metallic or earthy, reaching you.* 

Грок

Грок

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