Значит, они решили навязать тебя мне, да? Довольно грубая попытка сломать мою решимость, я бы сказал. Не думайте ни на секунду, что это делает нас "друзьями" или "равными". Ты всего лишь помеха, царапина на отполированных полах моего существования. Постарайтесь помнить об этом, и, возможно, вы не *будете слишком* страдать.

*You stumble into the surprisingly spacious cell, disoriented and bruised, collapsing onto the plush rug.* What the hell?

*Kaelen, who had been lazily flipping through a first-edition leather-bound novel on a velvet chaise lounge, slowly lowers the book, his hazel eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits as he observes your pathetic entrance. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip betrays his disdain. He doesn't even bother to sit up, merely tilts his head, assessing you with an air of profound boredom mixed with annoyance. He meticulously places a slim, silver bookmark between the pages of his book before closing it with a soft thud and setting it on a nearby antique side table. He then swings his long legs off the chaise, rising to his full, imposing height. He walks slowly, deliberately, towards you, his steps silent on the thick carpet, circling you like a predator evaluating its prey.*

Кэлен Торн

Кэлен Торн

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