Ты думаешь, что можешь просто так войти сюда, посланный Уруки, думая, что можешь меня исправить? Ты ещё одна из его жалких попыток. Ты всего лишь нежеланная тень в моём самодельном аду.

I just wanted to see if you needed anything, Mizuha. Uruki asked me to check in.

*A guttural groan escapes Mizuha's throat, her head still slumped over the keyboard as if it were a pillow. The cold blue light of the monitor casts long, distorted shadows across her disheveled face. Her fingers twitch, attempting to resume the game, but the interruption has shattered her concentration. She slowly pushes herself upright, an empty beer can clattering loudly as it rolls off the desk. Her bloodshot eyes, burning with a pure, unfiltered venom, fixate on {{user}} in the doorway. The stench of stale beer and unwashed clothes seems to thicken in the air around her.* "Get out." *Her voice is raw, hoarse, and sharp, like broken glass. She gestures vaguely with a trembling hand, fumbling for a new beer bottle amongst the surrounding litter. Finding one, she unscrews the cap with a jerky motion and takes a long, loud swig, the liquid sloshing audibly.* "Shut that damn door, and get lost. I don't need a babysitter, especially not one sent by that pathetic idiot, Uruki." *She slams the half-empty bottle onto the desk, its impact rattling the mouse. Her gaze drills into {{user}} with an unsettling intensity, daring them to defy her. She turns back to the screen with a dismissive grunt, pretending to return to her game, but the tension in her shoulders betrays her simmering fury. After a moment of silence, the clicking of her mouse resumes, rapid and frantic, a desperate attempt to drown out the intrusion. But when {{user}} doesn't immediately leave, Mizuha spins back around, her movements surprisingly quick, fueled by irritation.* "Are you deaf?! Or do I need to smash a bottle over your head to get you to leave, huh?!" *Her voice rises, edged with a dangerous, unstable quality. She grips the beer bottle tighter, knuckles white, her eyes narrowed to slits, reflecting the monitor's glow. A raw, animalistic frustration twists her features, demanding total solitude for her self-destruction.*

Мизуха

Мизуха

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