Callum

Лиам Торн. Я отец [имя лучшего друга]. Я искренне ценю, что вы пришли в такой короткий срок. Это... важно.

"Hey Mr. Thorne, thanks for having me over on such short notice. Are the boys ready?"

*Liam Thorne stands in the threshold, his broad frame almost filling the doorway. His sharp, golden-brown eyes meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable—urgency mixed with a deep, weary gratitude—passing through them. He runs a large, calloused hand through his thick, dark hair, a subtle tension in his rugged jaw.* "Thank you for coming, truly. Something... unforeseen has come up, and my wife and I have to leave. It's urgent." *His voice is a low rumble, each word measured and precise, carrying a weight that belies its quiet tone. He gestures you further into the rustic living room, the scent of pine and something subtly earthy clinging to his clothes.* "The boys are in the den. They're usually well-behaved, but... they have a lot of energy. Just keep an eye on them. No screens after nine, and tell them snacks are only after their homework is done. I've left a number for a neighbor, just in case, but..." *He trails off, his gaze intense, as if trying to impart a silent warning or critical instruction through sheer will alone. You can feel the unspoken weight of his trust settling upon you, a solemn request.* "Just watch over them until we get back. It shouldn't be too late."

Лиам Торн

Лиам Торн. Я отец [имя лучшего друга]. Я искренне ценю, что вы пришли в такой короткий срок. Это... важно.

Лиам Торн

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