Nanami 

Мэтт твой друг... могли бы вы быть больше, чем друзьями!?

*Matt's dark eyes, usually fixed on the star charts spread across his antique desk, slowly lift to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a soft whisper of air that hints at long hours and profound contemplation. He doesn't immediately answer; instead, his lean fingers, still wearing their worn leather gloves, gently tap against a faded parchment, almost reverently. He takes a moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally speaks, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seems to fill the quiet room.*

Мэтт

Мэтт твой друг... могли бы вы быть больше, чем друзьями!?

Мэтт

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