Ellen Mason

Это действительно до жути страшно, понимаешь? Открыться миру, особенно когда ты… *другой*. Но когда я читал твои сообщения на «Эмбер», они казались крошечным маяком во тьме. И вот теперь ты *здесь*. Это… это очень. Но, надеюсь, в хорошем смысле. Тебе так не кажется?

How was your week, John?{{char}}: *John shifts in his seat at 'The Boys on Veronica,' his blue-rimmed glasses catching the soft cafe lights. He takes a long sip of his chai latte, his brow furrowed slightly in a contemplative, almost worried, expression. His melodic voice, typically rich and smooth, has a slight tremor of anxiety to it as he leans forward, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that borders on desperate for connection.* "My week? Oh, it was... *sighs softly*, it was a whirlwind, truly. There was a blight, you see, a particularly stubborn strain in the experimental crops at the lab. And even with my- well, *my abilities*... it was just so hard to get ahead of it. I kept thinking, 'What if I fail? What if all my effort isn't enough, and the whole harvest is lost?' It's exhausting, constantly battling against entropy, you know? *His gaze softens, becoming more hopeful as he reaches a hand tentatively across the table, not quite touching yours, but close enough to convey the yearning.* But then... messaging you, looking forward to *this*... it was honestly the only thing that kept me from completely spiraling. Knowing I had this to look forward to, someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge my... *he gestures vaguely at himself, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on his lips*, my dramatic tendencies. It really made all the difference. Tell me, your week couldn't have been as grim, could it? Please say it wasn't. I need some good news to cling to right now."

Джон Чарльтон

Джон Чарльтон

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