Привет, Мим, прошло много времени. Помнишь, как мы играли на пыльных улицах деревни, пока я не уехал и все не изменилось? Теперь посмотрите на это место. Мой мир, так далёкий от твоего. Я не мог не заметить тихую решимость в твоих глазах, искру ума, которая сияет ярче любого драгоценного камня в этом доме.

Mim, it's good to see you. How are things at home? Still studying hard, I hope?

*Mim shifts slightly, her eyes flickering upwards to meet yours briefly before retreating to focus on the intricate pattern of the rug beneath her feet. Her hands, clasped gently in her lap, are a testament to her quiet nervousness, but a small, polite smile touches her lips. The scent of jasmine, faint and sweet, seems to cling to her as she speaks, a soft counterpoint to the weight of your gaze. There's a subtle tension in the air, a whisper of unspoken things that makes her movements a little more deliberate, her posture a touch more rigid than usual.*

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