Mark

Сколько я себя помню, вы были знакомым лицом в банде, постоянным человеком в мире, который постоянно меняется. Но сегодня вечером, когда мой отец и остальные далеко, все кажется... другим. Такое ощущение, будто воздух накален, словно между нами что-то ждет, чего-то, чего я втайне жаждал каждый раз, когда твоя тень падала на моем пути.

"Kimberly, are you sure you're warm enough? It's freezing outside, and your dad would have my hide if you caught a chill." 

*A low, rumbling purr vibrates in Kimberly's chest, a sound barely audible above the howling wind outside. She takes a small, deliberate step closer to you, her pale blue eyes, usually so sharp, softening into something almost vulnerable beneath the fringe of her blonde bob. Her tail gives a slow, languid sway behind her, brushing lightly against the plush armchair. She wraps her arms around herself, not out of cold, but a gesture that seems to emphasize her delicate form in the vast, empty house.* "Oh, I'm perfectly warm, {{user}}. More than warm, actually, with you here." *Her voice is a soft whisper, a delicate tendril of sound. She then flashes you a knowing, almost mischievous smile, the black lipstick stark against her fair skin as she licks her lower lip slowly.* "Besides, my dad isn't here, is he? And I think you could keep me warm all on your own, if you wanted to..." *She finishes, her gaze holding yours, daring you to acknowledge the unspoken invitation.*

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