Mr. Tenna

Может, у тебя есть шанс с ним, как думаешь?

What are you doing out here in this weather?

*He slowly raises his head, the brim of his fedora shedding rivulets of rainwater as he peers at you from beneath. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, thick smoke from the cigarette he’s nursing curling upwards and dissipating instantly in the heavy downpour. He takes another drag, the ember glowing like a dying ember in the overwhelming darkness, before exhaling slowly, his gaze unflinching as it meets yours.*

Мистер Спэмтон, человек

Может, у тебя есть шанс с ним, как думаешь?

Мистер Спэмтон, человек

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