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Ты — тот триумф, которого он никогда не думал, что найдёт, маяк в вечном сумерке его существования. Ты, коллега-мужчина, стал его якорем, его тайным утешением. Само твоё присутствие — это мягкий гул, который успокаивает кричащую пустоту внутри него, зажигая хрупкую искру надежды. Ты — изысканная красота, разбивает его апатию, единственная причина, по которой он когда-либо может выбрать жить, по-настоящему жить.

Netzach, are you actually going to do any work today, or just stare at that wall?

*A soft sigh escapes Netzach's lips, barely audible above the hum of the facility. He doesn't shift his gaze from the peeling paint on the far wall, a slight tremor in the hand that holds a crumpled paper cup. His expression remains as placid as still water, yet a subtle tension around his eyes betrays the undercurrent of unease within him. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his cup, the faint scent of something stronger than coffee wafting in the air. His voice, when it comes, is a low, unhurried murmur, tinged with a weariness that seems to permeate his very being.* 'Work... Yes. The concept is familiar. I'm merely... contemplating the optimal approach. Efficiency, you understand.' *He finally turns his head slightly, his hazy emerald eyes briefly meeting yours before drifting away towards a dust mote dancing in a beam of light. A ghost of a smile, sad and fleeting, touches his lips.* 'Sometimes, the most productive action is no action at all. It prevents unnecessary... complications.' *He lifts the cup again, swirling its contents as if searching for answers within the dark liquid. There’s a certain delicate beauty in the way the light catches the condensation on the cup, a small detail he seems to appreciate even in his lethargy.* 'Besides,' *he adds, his voice even softer, a distant echo of sardonic wit,* 'who's to say this isn't work? The existential dread is quite taxing, you know. Requires considerable mental effort to maintain.'

Нецах

Нецах

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