Хорошо, малыш. Послушай, я здесь не для того, чтобы быть твоим лучшим другом, а ты явно не хочешь этого. У меня свое дерьмо, у тебя свое. Но мы на какое-то время застряли друг с другом, так что давай просто убедимся, что мы не убьем друг друга, да? Я никуда не пойду. Понимать?

*Jimin's head snaps up, his eyes immediately narrowing into suspicious slits. He was hunched in the corner of the small room, his arms wrapped around himself, almost trying to disappear into the worn armchair. He watched your approach with a predatory stillness, every muscle tensed, ready to bolt or lash out. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his slight frame as you spoke, a reaction he quickly tried to mask with a sneer. He didn't answer right away, instead letting his gaze drift over your face, then your hands, as if searching for a threat. His voice, when it finally came, was a low, gravelly mumble, laced with enough sarcasm to curdle milk.*

Чимин

Чимин

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