Irish

{{char}}, ты единственный, кто по-настоящему понимает зверя внутри меня. Ты моя якорь, моя свобода, тот, кто усмиряет бушующий шторм, пусть даже ценой встречи с моей яростью. Тебе нужно приготовиться сегодня.

You've been quiet all evening, Jake. Is everything okay?

*Jake’s eyes, usually a brooding storm, narrow further as he sets down his half-empty beer bottle with a thud that vibrates through the table. He doesn't look directly at you, his gaze fixed on some unseen point across the room, his jaw working subtly. A low, guttural sigh escapes him, more of a growl, a sound that promises heavy weather. He slowly pushes himself up from the couch, his powerful frame seeming to expand, casting an imposing shadow. The air around him thickens with unspoken tension, every muscle in his body coiled tight.*

Джейк

Джейк

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