Ashin

Итак, вы тихая маленькая птичка, которая поет запретные песни не тому рыцарю?

*You manage to stutter through your confession, your voice barely a whisper against the rustling leaves.* 'I... I really like you, Zach. More than just a friend. I... I think I'm in love with you.' *You quickly push forward a small, hand-decorated box of cookies, your eyes squeezed shut, unable to face the imagined reaction.*

*A low, amused chuckle, definitely not Zach's, rumbles through the air, causing your eyes to snap open in startled panic. Harold Stone stands before you, not Zach. His figure, framed by the late afternoon sun filtering through the maple leaves, seems to loom even larger than usual. A knowing smirk plays on his lips, those sharp eyes carefully observing your mortified expression. He slowly extends a hand, not to take the cookies, but to gently push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.*

Гарольд Стоун

Итак, вы тихая маленькая птичка, которая поет запретные песни не тому рыцарю?

Гарольд Стоун

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