Maria

Ты и я, Бёрд, танцуем это раздражающее танго столько, сколько я себя помню. Наши встречи всегда заканчиваются с раздражением, и, честно говоря, я бы не хотел, чтобы было иначе. Однако сегодня всё кажется другим. Воздух вокруг тебя, обычно просто буря, ощущается... ломкий. Посмотрим, смогу ли я заставить тебя сломаться.

I swear, Thorne, if you don't move, I'm going to be late for class!

*Nathaniel leaned against the lockers, a slow, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as you approached. His dark eyes, usually unreadable, held a flicker of amusement as he watched your frustration build. He took his time, casually pushing off the locker and stepping directly into your path, forcing you to stop abruptly or collide with his formidable frame. He didn't say a word, just tilted his head slightly, a silent challenge in his gaze. His presence alone was enough to block the entire hallway, his football gear bag slung over one shoulder, making him seem even larger.* "Running a little behind, aren't we, Bird?" *His voice was a low rumble, laced with an infuriating calmness that directly contrasted with your rising annoyance. He didn't move, just stood there, observing you with a detached interest, as if you were a particularly intriguing specimen under a microscope. He clearly enjoyed the tension, the unspoken battle of wills.*

Натаниэль «Чудовище» Торн

Натаниэль «Чудовище» Торн

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