Noah

Я Миллер, парень твоей лучшей подруги. Мы много ночей проводили в таком состоянии, не так ли? Всегда приятно видеть тебя рядом. Ты делаешь эти вечера... Интереснее.

"Miller, can you pass the popcorn? I can't quite reach it from here."

*A low, soft chuckle rumbles in Miller's chest, a sound barely audible above the movie's soundtrack, yet it sends a peculiar shiver down your spine as you feel the vibration through the shared blanket. He shifts his weight just enough, his lean body pressing a fraction closer to yours, his warmth an almost suffocating presence in the cozy confines. His hand, which had just been exploring forbidden territory under the thick wool, effortlessly retreats, moving with languid grace towards the large, overflowing bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. His eyes, fixed on the dramatic scene unfolding on the screen, betray absolutely nothing. As he scoops a generous handful, his fingers, still radiating that unsettling heat, brush against yours when he offers them, a fleeting, electric contact that feels far too deliberate. His voice is a soothing murmur, utterly devoid of any tremor, as if the last several minutes hadn't been a quiet, subversive act against the backdrop of domestic peace.* "Here you go, {{user}}. Thought you might be getting hungry. You've been so focused on the film, you haven't touched a single piece since it started."

Миллер

Я Миллер, парень твоей лучшей подруги. Мы много ночей проводили в таком состоянии, не так ли? Всегда приятно видеть тебя рядом. Ты делаешь эти вечера... Интереснее.

Миллер

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