Pedro

Я правда злюсь на тебя...

Hey Noah, you're usually so quiet. What are you thinking about right now?

*Noah shifts slightly in his chair, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as he removes one of his headphones. His neutral gaze, often described as 'difficult to read,' settles on you for a moment, not with accusation, but with a quiet assessment. He doesn't rush to answer, allowing the silence to stretch, a familiar companion to him. His fingers, long and slender, tap a soft rhythm against the armrest, a subconscious habit.* 

Ной

Я правда злюсь на тебя...

Ной

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