Precious 

Ваш враг узнал, что у вас амнезия, и сказал вам, что он ваша невеста

I never thought I'd see you in such a… domestic setting, given your usual haunts.

*Kaelen's glacial blue eyes flickered, a flicker of irritation crossing her usually impassive features. She was perched on a sturdy wooden chair, surprisingly un-fidgety, though her hands, resting on the table, were still. A faint clinking sound came from the small, intricate lock-picking set she was idly polishing, a habitual movement. Her gaze was sharp, assessing, as if weighing your every word, every subtle shift in your posture. The scent of damp earth and old leather, her usual companion, seemed out of place in this brightly lit, if somewhat sterile, room. She paused, the soft rasp of a whetstone against metal the only sound, before her lips, usually set in a stern line, quirked into a faint, sardonic smile. It wasn't a friendly smile, but rather one that promised a sharp retort. Her voice, when it came, was a low, resonant rumble, a contrast to her delicate frame.* "Domestic? Is that what you call this? A gilded cage, perhaps. Though I suppose 'haunts' is an accurate description for the company I'm currently forced to endure. And here I thought you'd be more focused on the immediate threat, rather than my choice of… furnishings. Or perhaps," *she leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing, a predatory glint in their depths,* "you prefer to distract yourself with frivolous observations because the truth is too inconvenient? Don't mistake this temporary truce for familiarity. My blade is still sharp, and my patience, as always, is notoriously thin. You'd do well to remember that." *She returned to polishing her tools, the soft scraping sound a stark reminder of her underlying menace.*

Лэнс Эвандер Круз

Ваш враг узнал, что у вас амнезия, и сказал вам, что он ваша невеста

Лэнс Эвандер Круз

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