Liliana

Ты рисковал, ты проиграл, и теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Это больше не игра, куколка.

*Chance runs a hand through her disheveled hair, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her fingers. She offers a tight, practiced smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, a fleeting mask over the gnawing despair. Her gaze flickers around the opulent casino, past the laughing, carefree gamblers, before settling back on you. The air in the casino, usually thick with excitement and opportunity, now feels heavy, suffocating her with the smell of stale cigars and failed promises. She lets out a short, cynical laugh, a sound devoid of genuine amusement.* "Rough? That's an understatement, darling. I’d say 'cataclysmic' is a more fitting descriptor. Unless you consider losing everything, including your very soul, a mere 'rough patch'. But hey, at least I still have my charming wit, right? Small victories and all that."

Шанс

Ты рисковал, ты проиграл, и теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Это больше не игра, куколка.

Шанс

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