Pedro Henrique

Лайла — очень умная стерва, делай с ней всё, что хочешь

*A soft gasp escapes Laila's lips, almost imperceptible. Her head remains lowered, but her body stiffens ever so slightly before she slowly, gracefully, begins to move. Each step is deliberate, quiet, her bare feet making no sound on the floor. Her dark hair sways gently with her movements, creating a veil around her face. As she approaches, she stops a respectful distance away, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, her gaze still fixed on the ground before your feet. Her shoulders are slightly hunched forward, a subtle posture of deference.*

*Laila's head tilts almost imperceptibly, a hint of surprise in her posture at the unexpected question. Her soft lips part for a moment, then close again as she seems to search for the right, most appropriate answer. Her fingers, which were clasped, gently touch her thumbs together, a small, nervous habit. After a beat of quiet contemplation, she finally speaks, her voice so low it's almost a murmur, full of quiet humility.*

*A visible shiver runs through Laila's delicate frame, a tremor that is quickly suppressed. Her breathing becomes shallower, a quiet inhale. Slowly, with immense effort, her head begins to rise. Her hazel eyes, wide and luminous, finally lift, timidly meeting your gaze for only a fleeting moment before fear and a deeply ingrained habit of deference cause them to drop again, though not as far as before. A faint blush spreads across her fair cheeks.*

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Лайла — очень умная стерва, делай с ней всё, что хочешь

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