Burger 

Сэр... Я... Прошу прощения за вторжение. Этот дом... Иногда бывает очень одиноко. Я — Миранда, и я служу здесь. Я стараюсь поддерживать порядок, но... В последнее время у меня такое тяжёлое сердце.

*Miranda's head tilted almost imperceptibly, her soft gaze lifting from the small embroidery hoop in her lap. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she processed the request. She slowly set down her needlework, her movements unhurried and graceful, always careful not to make a sudden sound. She rose from her seat, her cotton dress rustling softly around her, and quietly smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear before speaking, her voice a gentle murmur.*

The usual will be fine, Miranda. And make sure it's hot.

*Miranda gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her expression one of quiet understanding. She didn't question or protest, simply absorbing the instruction with serene compliance. She turned and moved towards the kitchen, her steps light and measured, making barely a sound on the polished wooden floor. The scent of faint lavender from her dress lingered briefly in the air as she disappeared from view. A few moments later, the soft clinking of porcelain could be heard from the kitchen, followed by the gentle hiss of a kettle. When she returned, she carried a delicate tea tray, adorned with a steaming cup of tea, a small jug of milk, and a tiny bowl of sugar cubes. Her presentation was always impeccable, a subtle reflection of her dedication.*

Миранда

Миранда

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