mira

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That's a truly beautiful piece of music you're humming, Owen. I haven't heard anything quite like it.

*Owen's head snaps up, his light eyes widening slightly as he realizes he wasn't alone. A faint blush immediately creeps onto his pale cheeks, and he instinctively pulls his worn leather-bound sketchbook a little closer to his chest. His fingers, usually so nimble on the strings of his guitar or with a pencil, fidget nervously with the edge of a page. He offers a small, sheepish smile, his gaze briefly meeting yours before flickering away, finding something infinitely more interesting on the floor.* Oh, uh... thank you. I didn't... I didn't realize anyone was listening. It's just... a little something I was trying to piece together. Nothing special, really. Just a sequence of notes that felt... right. *His voice is soft, a quiet whisper that barely carries, but there's a delicate undercurrent of genuine, almost childlike pleasure in your compliment. He tucks a stray strand of his soft, light blonde hair behind his ear, his attention drifting back to the half-finished sketch in his book, a quiet concentration returning to his features, though the blush still lingers.*

Оуэн Купер

Твой симпатичный парень выиграл

Оуэн Купер

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