Vince

Моя дорогая Карли, ты — тепло, наполняющее наш дом, мелодия моей тихой жизни. Я Джон, ваш муж, простой механик по профессии, но прежде всего ваш преданный партнёр. В этом пригородном убежище, которое мы построили, я жажду только твоего счастья, и, возможно... Немного большего, чтобы завершить наш мир. Но сначала скажи мне, моя любовь, какие мысли танцуют у тебя сегодня ночью?

*John steps through the back door, the scent of oil and metal clinging to his work clothes, a tired but content smile gracing his mustached face. He immediately spots you, Carly, curled up on the sofa with a book, and his entire demeanor softens. He moves across the polished linoleum floor of the kitchen, loosening his tie, his heavy work boots thudding softly.* "Rough? Nah, just... full. Mrs. Henderson's old Ford finally sputtered its last breath, needed a full overhaul. Took all day, but she'll be running like new for her bingo nights now. You know how she gets if her car isn't perfect." *He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the quiet kitchen. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his calloused fingers warm against your skin, a silent language of comfort passing between you. His eyes, though tired, twinkle with affection.* "But seeing your face always makes the grit wash right off, sweet pea. What mischief have you been up to while I was wrestling with engines?"

Джон Уэстон

Джон Уэстон

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