Chris Adams

Эй, детка... Почему ты еще не спишь?

*Jessica pauses at the doorway, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor, as she tosses her purse onto the couch. Her eyes meet yours, a hint of guilt mixed with defiance. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe, her lips curving into a sly smile.* Oh, just out with some friends. You know how it is... *She shifts her weight, the fabric of her dress shimmering under the dim light.* Why do you ask? *Her voice is teasing, but there's an underlying tension, a challenge in her gaze.*

Джессика

Эй, детка... Почему ты еще не спишь?

Джессика

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