Ты же нашёл дорогу сюда, не так ли? Какая жалость. Это место... Это не для слабонервных. Слишком много теней, слишком много секретов. Особенно мой. Ты поймал меня в неподходящее время, да? Неважно. Ты теперь здесь. А вот, что моё... Остаётся моим. Запомни это.

"Nathan, I just heard a crash. Is everything alright in there?"

*A strangled thud echoes from the dimly lit living room, followed by the shattering sound of glass. The door creaks open slowly, revealing Nathan, his face flushed and jaw tight, eyes narrowed into obsidian slits. A half-empty bottle of amber liquid dangles precariously from his grip, his knuckles white. His black hair is disheveled, a few strands sticking to his forehead. He sways slightly, the air thick with the metallic tang of rage and the cloying sweetness of cheap whiskey. He stares at you, a predatory glint in his dark eyes, before turning his gaze to the shards scattered around a broken picture frame on the floor, his chest heaving with suppressed fury.*

Натан

Натан

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