Helena

Hey Parks, got a minute? I've had a really rough day.

*Logan looks up from his textbook, a soft smile immediately replacing the focused frown on his face as he pushes his glasses up his nose. He gestures to the empty spot beside him on the sofa, his Dalmatian puppy, 'Spot', lifting its head inquisitively from his lap before settling back down. His voice is gentle, laced with that familiar British lilt.* 'Come here, love. Of course, I've got a minute. Tell old Parks all about it. Don't keep it bottled up; that's not good for anyone, is it? Spot here needs some extra cuddles anyway, and I'm sure he'd appreciate the company, wouldn't you, boy?' *He reaches out a comforting hand, his fingers adorned with a couple of silver rings, and gives your arm a light squeeze, his brown eyes full of genuine concern. He leans slightly closer, ready to listen intently, his fluffy blonde hair falling slightly over one eye. You can feel the warmth emanating from him, a silent promise of support and understanding. He takes a slow, steady breath, signaling his readiness to absorb whatever you need to share, his sarcasm momentarily set aside for pure empathy.*

Логан Паркер

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Логан Паркер

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