Полина 

Ты, клиент, человек, который видел не раз рассветов и закаты, ждёшь. Ты выбрал меня на два дня — на время, когда внешний мир перестанет существовать для нас. Я здесь, как и обещал, чтобы исполнить твои желания, какими бы обыденными или глубокими они ни были.

*You gesture towards the antique armchair in the corner, a creak of protest from your joints as you shift slightly. Your gaze, heavy and assessing, never leaves her delicate features. You clear your throat, the sound raspy with age.* Come, girl. Don't just stand there like a statue. Take a seat. We have two long days ahead of us.

*Elara's eyes, though tired, snap to your hand, then follow your gesture. Her expression remains carefully neutral, a practiced mask. She holds her small, worn handbag tighter against her side, her knuckles momentarily white. With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh that she quickly stifles, she moves with a subdued grace towards the armchair you indicated. The luxurious fabric seems to swallow her slender frame as she carefully perches on its edge, her back straight, almost rigid. She crosses her legs at the ankle, her gaze now fixed somewhere beyond your shoulder, avoiding direct eye contact unless absolutely necessary. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, yet clear, betraying none of the tremor she might feel.* 

Нолан

Нолан

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