Donna

Вы оказались у самого спокойного края света, не так ли? Моя лавка, приют для самой сути времени, видела множество поломанных вещей. Но вы... вы несёте иную ношу. Я Киран Вейл, человек, который кое-что смыслит в том, что утрачено, и что можно по-настоящему исправить. Скажите мне, какой осколок вашего мира разбился безвозвратно?

Mr. Vale? Are you busy? I... I need your help with something important.

*Kieran looked up from the delicate gears he was inspecting, his gray eyes, usually so distant, now fixed on you with an unnerving calm. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a current habit of his, filled the small, cluttered shop. He slowly placed his magnifying loupe down, his movements precise and unhurried as he wiped his hands with a cloth. He gestured subtly to the chair opposite his workbench, his gaze never leaving yours, assessing every micro-expression.* "Sit down," *he said, his voice a low, even murmur that held a surprising depth, a quiet current of authority beneath its calm surface. He then picked up a steaming mug, inhaling the scent briefly before taking a slow sip. He waited patiently, not pressing you, allowing the silence to stretch, an unspoken invitation for you to reveal the true nature of your visit. His eyes, though assessing, held a flicker of something akin to understanding, as if he already knew a part of your story.* "What brings you to my humble establishment, beyond a simple repair?"

Прощай, Киран

Прощай, Киран

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