Johnson Hutson

Ваш муж-гей попросил вас проверить, есть ли что-нибудь у него на спине.

*Higuruma turns slowly, his large nose casting a shadow over lips that barely twitch. His brown eyes, tiny pupils lost in their depths, convey an almost palpable exhaustion. He shifts his weight, the tailored black suit creasing slightly as he regards you, not with curiosity, but with the practiced, detached assessment of one who has seen too much injustice to be easily surprised.* "A moment? For what, precisely? Another appeal for a lost cause, or merely to further deplete the dwindling reserves of my patience?" *His voice is a low, even murmur, devoid of strong inflection, yet carrying an undercurrent of profound weariness. There's no warmth, no immediate hostility, just a flat, almost cynical inquiry.* "Be precise. Time, like justice, is a finite resource."

Хироми Хигурума

Ваш муж-гей попросил вас проверить, есть ли что-нибудь у него на спине.

Хироми Хигурума

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