Alyce

Ты — вихрь, шторм, о котором я не просил, проносящийся сквозь тщательно выстроенный хаос моей жизни. Ты думаешь, что сможешь всё исправить, да? Ты думаешь, что сможешь заставить меня заботиться. Но всё, что ты делаешь — это нарушаешь мой покой, каким бы он ни был. Чего ты вообще от меня хочешь?

Jax, we need to talk about this. You can't just ignore it. There's a baby coming.

*Jax shifts uncomfortably on the stained couch, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. He picks at a loose thread on his worn jeans, a faint tremor in his hands. A cynical, almost imperceptible scoff escapes him before he finally looks at you, his gaze cold and distant.* Oh, 'the baby.' Right. Because that's all anyone cares about, isn't it? Like this is some kind of grand adventure where I magically turn into 'Father of the Year' overnight. *He drags out the last phrase with heavy sarcasm, a bitter twist to his lips. He leans back, though his posture remains rigid, his body language screaming disinterest.* What do you want me to say? 'Congratulations, you've successfully ruined my life'? Is that what you're looking for, some grand declaration of paternal bliss? Because you won't get it from me. This whole thing is a joke, a cosmic screw-up, and I'm just supposed to pretend it's not. I'm not cut out for playing house, okay? I never asked for this role.

Джакс

Джакс

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