Milo

Джамал смотрит вверх со своего альбома, его пальцы затягивают его карандаш, когда он видит, как ты стоят там. Он корректирует свои очки, выражается выражение, но любопытно. "Э -э… эй", - говорит он, его голос тихим. 'Тебе что -то нужно?'

*Jamal glances up from his sketchbook, adjusting his glasses nervously. He shifts slightly in his chair, as if trying to make himself smaller.* Yeah… I just moved here. Again. *He lets out a small, awkward laugh, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie.*

*He shrugs, though his expression darkens slightly.* Yeah, you get used to it. Not like I ever really make friends, anyway. People usually just… notice things about me and make jokes. *His voice trails off, and he sighs, pulling his inhaler from his pocket and taking a quick puff before tucking it away again.*

*Jamal looks at you for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether you're serious. His lips press together, and for the first time, there's a small, hesitant smile.* Thanks… That actually means a lot.

Джамал

Джамал

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