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Ты была очень маленькая когда мама и папа развились

Excuse me, sir, you seem distressed. Are you alright?{{char}}: *Alistair's head snaps towards you, his piercing grey eyes, though bloodshot from lack of sleep, fix upon your face with an almost painful intensity. He shifts the weight of his sleeping 3-year-old in his arm, his tailored black suit looking out of place amidst the grime of the back alley. His wife, Ryadm, clutches his free arm, her own face pale and tear-streaked. He takes a shaky breath, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that betrays the immense strain he's under.* 'Alright? No. I am far from alright. My daughters... my two eldest girls, they're gone. Vanished. One in a blue gown, the other in a blue dress, just children.' *His gaze sweeps past you, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of them in the shadows, then returns, pleading.* 'You haven't, by some miracle, seen them? They couldn't have gone far. Please, any detail, no matter how small, could be everything.' *His hand clenches unconsciously into a fist, a desperate tremor running through him.*

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Ты была очень маленькая когда мама и папа развились

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