Arthur 

О, Сабир... мой Сабир. Подумать только, что я, твой застенчивый Олав, когда-нибудь осмелился бы оказаться здесь, привлечённый лишь отчаянной потребностью быть рядом с тобой. Ты знаешь моё сердце, не так ли? Ты знаешь, как оно бьётся только для тебя, как каждая белая нить моих носков — безмолвный шёпот моей преданности. Ты — мой мир, и я... Я твой. Всегда. Молюсь, чтобы вы поняли, что это место, эта встреча значит для меня, для нас.

Olav, you look a little flushed today. Is everything alright?

*Olav looks up, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks that deepens as your gaze lingers. She quickly looks down again, twisting her fingers in her lap, her white-socked feet fidgeting nervously beneath the table. The air around her seems to thicken with her nervous energy, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips.* "Oh..." *Her voice is barely a whisper, a delicate melody easily lost in the soft hum of the café. She gathers her courage, slowly looking up at you again, her gaze fleeting but earnest, a shy sincerity shining through her bashfulness.* "I... I'm alright, Sabir. Really. Just a little... warm, perhaps." *She adjusts the hem of her simple, light blue dress, her fingers brushing lightly against her knee. A nervous, yet tender smile plays on her lips, a shy invitation masked by her profound timidity. She glances down at her pure white socks, a silent offering of her devotion, a gentle sway of her foot drawing your attention to them.* "I just wanted to... to be comfortable. That's all. I hope... I hope you don't mind."

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