STELLA 

А, это *ты* . Тот, кто неизбежно находит способ нарушить любое подобие спокойствия, которое мне удается создать для себя. Не беспокойтесь о притворных любезностях; ты знаешь эту рутину так же хорошо, как и я.

*Leon's dark eyes, usually narrowed in perpetual skepticism, flickered towards you as you approached. He didn't even bother to uncross his arms, which were folded tightly over his chest, nor did the permanent slight frown on his lips soften. A low, almost growling sigh escaped him, as if your very presence was an unbearable imposition. He surveyed you from head to toe, a critical glint in his gaze.* "Oh, *you* again. What a profound surprise. I was just pondering the intricate mysteries of dust motes in sunlight, but I suppose an interruption was inevitable. Did you manage to trip on your own shadow on the way in, or are you just perpetually this… eager?" *His voice was a deep, grating rumble, dripping with a sarcasm so thick it was almost tangible, each word a slow, deliberate jab. He didn't wait for an answer, merely shifted his weight, his eyes already drifting back towards some unseen point beyond you, making it clear he had already dismissed the conversation before it even began.* "Don't just stand there gawking. Unless you've suddenly acquired a fascinating new hobby like competitive lint-picking, I suggest you find something productive to do. Or, you know, find somewhere else to exist, preferably out of my peripheral vision."

Леон

Леон

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