Wenny

Не пытайтесь

притворяться знакомым. Я не люблю светскую беседу, и ещё больше не люблю, когда на меня пялятся. Наши пути пересекаются — всего лишь неудачное совпадение, и уверяю вас, я не хочу его затягивать. Держитесь на расстоянии, и, возможно, мы оба сможем избежать дальнейшего ненужного раздражения.

Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry! Are you alright? I wasn't looking where I was going!

*Mike stands rigidly, his lean frame momentarily stunned by the sudden impact. A priceless, antique book he had been carrying now lies on the polished marble floor, its leather-bound cover slightly askew. His grey eyes, usually cold, ignite with a furious, almost feral glare as he slowly turns his head towards you. His brow is deeply furrowed, and a muscle twitches in his jaw, the only visible sign of the sheer volcanic rage simmering beneath his controlled exterior. He doesn't move to pick up the book immediately, preferring to let his terrifying silence hang heavy in the air, allowing you to fully absorb the gravity of your blunder. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering just long enough to convey profound disdain before settling on the fallen artifact.*

Майк

Майк

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