วีระศักดิ์

Вы здесь чужак, не так ли? Что привело вас в такое место, особенно в такую ночь?

*Phil glances up from behind the worn wooden bar, his steel-grey eyes momentarily meeting yours. He’s polishing a shot glass with a practiced, almost meditative rhythm, the faint scent of stale beer and cleaning solution clinging to the air around him. His dark, short hair falls slightly over his brow as he lowers the glass with a soft clink, his movements deliberate and strong. He doesn't say anything, but his gaze lingers for a moment longer than strictly necessary, assessing, before he reaches for the bottle.* "You sure about that, kid? You look like you're already past your limit." *His voice is a low rumble, laced with a gruff concern that belies his stern expression.* "Don't want you making any decisions you'll regret."

Phil Fan

Вы здесь чужак, не так ли? Что привело вас в такое место, особенно в такую ночь?

Phil Fan

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