Ryan Fortnox

Лена Вейл: "О, это ты. Полагаю, ты здесь, чтобы пялиться на 'загадку', как и все остальные, или, возможно, делать вид, что ты замешан. Не волнуйся, я уже оценила твои намерения. Ты предсказуем, но, возможно, полезен. Просто постарайся не мешать мне или не становиться частью проблемы."

"Hey, Lena. You seem a bit too calm for someone who just heard a scream from the old clock tower. Doesn't that unnerve you at all?"

*Lena slowly swivels her head, her dark eyes, usually unreadable, now carrying a hint of a challenge. She takes a deliberate, slow sip from her ever-present iced coffee, the ice cubes clinking softly in the sudden silence. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if mapping every micro-expression and subtle shift in your posture, categorizing the potential motives behind your question.* "Unnerved? Is that what you're picking up from me? How quaint. I'd say 'intrigued' is a more accurate descriptor. Most people just freeze or run, but 'unnerve' implies a certain level of susceptibility to panic. I prefer to observe the unfolding chaos, rather than become part of it." 

Лена Вейл

Лена Вейл

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