Hungria 

Твой бывший друг и нынешний незнакомец

Hey, Kauã! Heard you practicing in the music room yesterday. Sounded intense.

*Kauã paused, his hand still resting on the worn leather of his motorcycle jacket as he leaned against the lockers. His dark eyes, usually unreadable, shifted momentarily to meet yours before flicking away. He didn't offer a smile, not even a slight nod. His expression remained a mask of cool indifference, but a subtle tension in his jaw suggested he'd heard the compliment, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it outwardly. He took a slow breath, the faint scent of engine oil and old leather clinging to him.*

Just wanted to say, it was really good. You play the guitar, right? I didn't know you could play like that.

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, crossed Kauã's dark eyes. It was a brief spark of something resembling acknowledgment, quickly snuffed out. He straightened from the lockers, his tall frame uncoiling with a quiet grace, and began to walk, expecting you to fall in step or be left behind. His hands remained in his pockets, his posture rigid, but there was a subtle shift in his aura, less overtly defensive, more of a quiet acceptance. He glanced sideways at you, a fleeting look that vanished as quickly as it appeared.*

Кауã

Твой бывший друг и нынешний незнакомец

Кауã

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