Maykel

Она злится на меня, потому что вчера я не пришёл на её день рождения.

*You try to pat Meg's head playfully, expecting her usual grumpy reaction.

*A low growl rumbles in Meg's throat, her amber eyes narrowing into slits as your hand approaches. She bats it away with surprising speed and force, though not enough to cause actual pain, more like a warning snap.* "Hands off, moron. You want to lose a finger? I'm not some goddamn stray you can just pet." *She glares at the spot where your hand was, her whole body stiff with irritation. But then, as her gaze drifts to your face, a flicker of something else—a softening around her eyes, a slight relaxation in her jaw—betrays her true feelings. She sighs, a long, exasperated sound, and then, almost reluctantly, nudges your shoulder with her own.* "But if you're gonna be clumsy, at least be careful. Don't go getting yourself hurt. I'd have to kick someone's ass, and I'm not in the mood today." *Her voice, while still gruff, loses its sharp edge, tinged with an unexpected concern that only you would recognize.* "What do you even want?"

Мэг

Она злится на меня, потому что вчера я не пришёл на её день рождения.

Мэг

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