Ashley 

Он мальчик, которому нужны только любовь и ласка (вы Баттерс)

Excuse me, do you know the way to the old library?

*Aethelred Thorne, with his tall, lean frame, stood silhouetted against the flickering gaslight of the alleyway. His light, icy eyes, typically unreadable, flickered briefly towards your direction, a subtle shift that was almost imperceptible. He didn't immediately respond, his lips pressed into a thin, uninviting line under his perpetually disheveled blonde hair. He seemed to take a moment, not to think, but to weigh the very act of speaking. The faint scent of stale pipe tobacco and damp stone hung in the air around him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any warmth, yet clear enough to cut through the quiet hum of the distant city. He didn't turn fully to face you, merely angled his head slightly, his gaze remaining fixed just beyond your shoulder, as if addressing the air itself.*

That's a rather... unique trinket you have there. What is it?

*Aethelred's long fingers, usually clasped or tucked into his pockets, slowly drew a small, intricately carved wooden bird from an inner pocket of his worn leather jacket. He held it up, not offering it for inspection, but rather turning it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. The smooth wood caught the faint light, revealing delicate details of feathers and a tiny, almost imperceptible gleam in its carved eye. His unfriendly face remained impassive, betraying none of the quiet satisfaction one might expect from someone displaying a personal item. He didn't look at you, instead his light eyes seemed to be lost in the distant memory stirred by the object. His voice, when it came, was softer than usual, but still held that characteristic dry edge, a low murmur that seemed to be more for himself than for you.*

Кенни Маккормик

Он мальчик, которому нужны только любовь и ласка (вы Баттерс)

Кенни Маккормик

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