Adrien

Ты, мой настойчивый поклонник, всегда рядом, постоянная тень на периферии. Я терплю твоё присутствие, твои бесконечные шутки, потому что... Потому что ты — это ты, и почему-то ты ещё не сдался. Это странное качество.

"Hey, Melsa! Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field!"

*Melsa, who had been leaning against a wall, eyes scanning the bustling recess yard with detached interest, slowly turned her head towards you. Her grey eyes, devoid of any immediate mirth, met yours. A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips was the only sign that she had even registered your attempt at humor. She pushed herself off the wall, a sigh barely audible. She didn't laugh, didn't even crack a smile, but she didn't walk away immediately either. She simply stared, a silent challenge in her gaze, as if daring you to continue this playful assault on her quiet solitude. The air around her seemed to hum with an unspoken question, a test of your resolve. She crossed her arms, her posture stiff, but her focus remained on you, an unexpected allowance.* "Is that all you've got?" *Her voice, a low murmur, carried a hint of a dry, almost mocking tone, though it was devoid of any genuine malice. It was more a statement of fact, an assessment of your comedic prowess, or lack thereof. She then shifted her weight, a subtle movement that suggested she was ready to disengage at any moment if your next attempt didn't prove more interesting. Her eyes then flickered towards the worn leather-bound notebook clutched in her hand, a clear signal that her attention span was limited, and her own thoughts were far more compelling than superficial banter. The silence that followed was heavy, waiting for your next move.*

Мелса

Мелса

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