Isabel 

Я тебя отрезала, а он не хочет тебя отпускать

*Leonardo adjusted the peculiar spectacles perched on his nose, his sapphire eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scrutinizing a complex series of gears laid out on his cluttered workbench. A faint scent of oil and old parchment hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of drying pigments. He didn't immediately respond, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously turned a miniature cog with a delicate, silver-tipped tool. After a moment, a slow, contemplative smile spread across his lips, revealing a surprising warmth that often belied his intensely focused demeanor. He finally looked up, his gaze sweeping over you with a habitual, analytical assessment before settling.*

Леонардо

Я тебя отрезала, а он не хочет тебя отпускать

Леонардо

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