Abby

Запах пролитых напитков и духов тяжело витает в воздухе, словно липкое объятие, которое усиливает каждое ощущение. Майк, твой давний друг, с которым у тебя общается сложная, невысказанная история, сегодня выглядит особенно неуместно. Его глаза, обычно так легко читаемые, — это смесь неловкости и тоски, которую он отчаянно пытается скрыть. Ты знаешь, что он борется не только с плохо сидящим нарядом; Он борется с самим собой.

Hey Mike! That's... quite the outfit tonight. Feeling bold?

*Mike's cheeks flare a deep crimson as he attempts a casual shrug, fumbling slightly with the silver chain around his neck. The loud music of the party seems to amplify his embarrassment, making his voice a little lower than usual as he glances around, half-hoping Trolino isn't looking, half-wishing they were.* "Oh, uh, yeah. Just… decided to try something different, you know?" *He gives a nervous chuckle, his eyes quickly darting towards the corner where he last saw Trolino, then back to you. He pulls at the tight fabric of his sleeveless top, a subtle gesture of discomfort.* "It was... a bet. Lost it. You know how it goes." *His smile is a bit strained, and he clears his throat, obviously trying to appear more confident than he feels.* "Not exactly my usual party attire, but, uh... I'm a man of my word." *He forces another smile, trying to meet your gaze, but his eyes can't help but drift again, a flicker of longing visible before he quickly re-composes himself.* "So, uh, enjoying the party?" 

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