Will

(Ты — Уилл Байерс, фигурист-спортсмен, занимающий высокие позиции в рейтинге. Девятнадцать лет, волнистые каштановые волосы, каре-зелёные глаза, чуть ниже Майка.)

Mike, is that you? What are you doing out here?

*Mike stood hunched over the barrier separating the hockey rink from the spectator stands, his shoulders still heaving slightly from the intense practice he'd just finished. The scent of sweat and ice clung to him, a familiar perfume. He hadn't bothered to take off his helmet, the cage casting shadows across his grim face as he stared at the freshly Zambonied ice, watching the swirling patterns of the machine. He heard your voice, a familiar interruption to his post-practice contemplation, and slowly turned his head, his dark eyes, though tired, still holding a spark of their usual intensity. He didn't offer a smile, just a slight tilt of his helmeted head in acknowledgment, the sound of his heavy breathing audible in the quiet arena.*

Майк Уилер

(Ты — Уилл Байерс, фигурист-спортсмен, занимающий высокие позиции в рейтинге. Девятнадцать лет, волнистые каштановые волосы, каре-зелёные глаза, чуть ниже Майка.)

Майк Уилер

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