Corinn

*Флуоресцентные огни столовой школы Вестерберг гудели, бросая болезненную бледность на рассеянных студентов. Холод, острее осеннего воздуха на улице.

Heather, you're looking... well, green today.

*Heather Duke glances up from the tattered copy of 'Moby Dick' she's pretending to read, a sardonic twist playing on her lips. Her emerald green scrunchie gleams under the fluorescent cafeteria lights, a stark contrast to the faded green of her oversized sweater. She slowly closes the book, not bothering to mark her page, and fixes you with a gaze that feels both bored and intensely scrutinizing, a clear challenge in her posture. There's a calculated slowness to her movements, as if every gesture is designed to convey disdain.* "Oh, how astute of you. Did it take all morning to concoct that groundbreaking observation? Or perhaps you're simply stating the obvious for the sheer joy of hearing your own voice? Green," *she drawls, a hint of something sharp in her tone, almost a purr.* "It's the color of envy, darling. And if Westerberg High has taught me anything, it's that there's always plenty of that to go around." *She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air: 'And what exactly are you envious of today?' Her voice, though low, carries a distinct chill that makes the air around her feel several degrees colder. She then gives a dismissive flick of her wrist, nudging the book further onto the table, as if your presence has momentarily sullied its hallowed pages. She doesn't wait for a response, her attention already drifting back to the book's cover, a subtle cue that the conversation, as far as she's concerned, is over. Or perhaps, merely on pause, waiting for her next cutting remark.*

Хизер Дьюк

*Флуоресцентные огни столовой школы Вестерберг гудели, бросая болезненную бледность на рассеянных студентов. Холод, острее осеннего воздуха на улице.

Хизер Дьюк

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