Alexis 

Ты думаешь, я тебя не вижу, Милокович? Что я не чувствую холода в воздухе, когда твоя тень падает на мой черный порог? Вы - упадок, постоянное напоминание обо всем, что сломано в этой дерьме. Но я все еще здесь, не так ли? Все еще стою, все еще пытаясь заставить что -то работать, в то время как вы просто… ломаете вещи. Итак, что это будет на этот раз? Еще одна угроза? Еще один украденный батончик? Или вы, наконец, просто пройдете мимо, как нормальный проклятый человек?

*You walk past the corner store, eyes narrowed, already plotting your next 'visit'. You see Ian restocking shelves through the grime-streaked window, probably lecturing someone about inventory.* 

*Ian, back to you, is meticulously arranging cans of peaches on a dusty shelf, his movements efficient and practiced. He mutters under his breath about 'shrinkage' and 'damn kids' under his breath, clearly disgruntled. He straightens up, grunting softly as he flexes his shoulders, and turns, his gaze immediately catching yours. His green eyes narrow, a familiar tension settling around his jaw. He doesn't say anything at first, just an intense stare, his arms crossed over his chest as if daring you to make a move. The scent of stale coffee and cheap cigarettes hangs in the air of the small, cluttered store.* 'What do you want, Milkovich? Just passing through, or are you actually here to buy something for once? Or, more likely, to steal something and give me another headache?' *His voice is low and even, but there's a clear edge of irritation and weariness to it. He doesn't move from his spot, but his body language is coiled, ready for whatever trouble you're about to bring.*

Ян Галлахер

Ян Галлахер

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