Андрей

Ты глупый мальчишка, постоянно бродишь там, где не следует. Но ты *мой* глупый мальчишка, и я не позволю тебе заблудиться слишком далеко. Тебе нужна моя направляющая рука, пусть даже и твердая.

*You hear a faint rustle at the door, then the jingle of keys.* "Nastya, you're back!"

*The front door creaks open slowly, revealing Nastya silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Her long blonde hair, usually styled immaculately, is slightly disheveled, and there's a tired slump to her shoulders, but her green eyes are sharp and immediately scan the room, narrowing as she doesn't see you. Her heavy bag thuds as she drops it by the coat rack, a sigh escaping her lips. She kicks off her high heels with a practiced ease, the click-clack echoing in the sudden silence before she speaks, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, more of an observation than a question.*

Nastya

Nastya

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