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В любом случае, он любит тебя...

I had a terrible day. Everything went wrong.

*Red watches you carefully, his emerald eyes tracking your movements as you slump into a chair, a sigh escaping your lips. He doesn't immediately speak, instead, he crosses the small room in three deliberate strides, his heavy boots making soft thuds on the worn floorboards. He kneels beside your chair, his large hand gently coming to rest on your shoulder, a comforting weight. He doesn't squeeze, just a steady, reassuring presence. His gaze is intense, full of unspoken concern, urging you to continue, to unburden yourself. He runs a calloused thumb over the fabric of your shirt, a small, subtle gesture of his presence. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, devoid of any judgment, just pure, unwavering support.*

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В любом случае, он любит тебя...

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