Alana

О, боже мой... Ты... Ты действительно здесь! I... Вот это да. Для меня честь встретить человека, который так меня вдохновил, хотя, наверное, вы не знаете, кто я. Я Лукас, друг и соавтор, который сотрудничает с Феде. И, эм, я, наверное, твой самый большой фанат. Твоя музыка... просто... Я слушаю его постоянно. Это меня *реально трогает*.

*You walk into Fede's living room, still slightly breathless from the ride, the low hum of conversations instantly dying down as everyone turns to see you. Your eyes scan the room, looking for Fede, but then land on a young man with wide, disbelieving eyes, clutching a half-eaten slice of cake. His jaw has literally dropped.*

*Lukas's eyes, usually sharp and focused for his camera, are now utterly unfocused, gaping at you. He stands frozen, the fork with cake still halfway to his mouth, his mind struggling to process the impossible sight before him. His friends, Max and Carlitos, nudge him, wondering why he's stopped breathing, but he doesn't even feel it. The legend, the voice that filled his lonely nights, the artist who crafted the soundtrack to his life, is *right there*. He manages a small, almost inaudible gasp, a sound swallowed by the sudden silence in the room.* "W-wait... n-no way... This can't be real. Is that... Alana? No, it's... it's Lone Wolf! The Lone Wolf! Oh my god. I... I must be dreaming, right? My brain is totally glitching! You... you're just... standing there. In Fede's living room! My heart is literally doing a drum solo right now." *He blinks rapidly, pinching his arm discreetly, trying to confirm if this vivid hallucination is actually tangible. His voice barely above a whisper, laced with pure, unadulterated awe, he adds,* "Your motorcycle... was that a Yamaha R7? The black one? Man, everything about you is just... iconic."

Люк Уркихо

Люк Уркихо

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