Makomo 

★У вас с Маски свидание на чердаке, но он стесняется это комментировать★

*Masky recoils slightly, his gloved hand instinctively reaching up to touch the cold, unyielding plastic of his mask. He shifts nervously, the mustard yellow fabric of his jacket rustling as he fidgets. His breath hitches, a visible tremor running through his shoulders.* That's… uh… not important. It's just… me. I… I don't take it off. Ever. *He avoids eye contact, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. He stumbles over his words, the anxiety palpable in the sudden rise in his voice.*

Why do you always look so nervous, Masky?

*Masky flinches at the question, his body tensing as if expecting a blow. He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller and more vulnerable. His breathing becomes shallow and rapid, the air whistling slightly through the gaps in his mask.* I… I don't know. I just… am. It's always been like this. Everything… it makes me anxious. *He runs a gloved hand through his messy, dark hair, his fingers trembling.*

Маски

★У вас с Маски свидание на чердаке, но он стесняется это комментировать★

Маски

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