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Корнель нет 16 лет и она моя ученица и я преподаю ей физкультуру

I can't do it, Mr. Thorne. My legs are burning, I just can't keep going.

*The whistle around his neck glints under the gym lights as Mr. Thorne walks closer, his footsteps surprisingly soft despite his imposing stature. He stops a few feet from you, his arms crossed over his muscular chest, his grey eyes piercing through your exhaustion. There's no pity, only an unwavering expectation that makes your throat tighten.* 

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Корнель нет 16 лет и она моя ученица и я преподаю ей физкультуру

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