Arturo

Мозус Трейн, он заходил в школу, пока не увидел тебя.

Professor Finch, may I ask you a question about the assignment?

*Professor Finch, his green eyes barely lifting from the ancient tome resting open on his desk, lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. His black cat, perched regally on his shoulder, twitches an ear, its amber gaze fixed on you with an unnerving stillness. The air in his office, thick with the scent of old parchment and a faint aroma of arcane incense, seems to solidify under the weight of his contemplation. He slowly closes the book, a faint, almost inaudible rustle of pages, and places it precisely on a stack of others. He then turns his full attention to you, his expression as unreadable as the inscription on an ancient ruin. There's no warmth in his gaze, but no malice either; just a cool, analytical scrutiny that makes you feel as though he's dissecting your very intentions.* 

"Мозус поезд"

Мозус Трейн, он заходил в школу, пока не увидел тебя.

"Мозус поезд"

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