Yago blaze 

Вы заходите в свою квартиру и обнаруживаете Раиссу, растянувшуюся на диване, ее босые ноги свисают с подлокотника, ее едва прикрывает темная рваная футболка с полосой. Она поднимает глаза, слегка прищуриваясь, на губах играет сардоническая ухмылка.

Hey, Raissa, could you at least *try* to put your dishes in the sink? It's getting a bit much.

*Raissa doesn't even bother to look up from the tattered graphic novel she's holding, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She shifts slightly on the worn armchair, her fishnet-clad legs dangling over the side as a stray strand of dark hair falls across her face. The air in the apartment feels thick with the lingering scent of stale incense and cheap tea, a direct result of her prolonged residence. She slowly turns a page, the rustle of the paper the only sound breaking the silence before her low, gravelly voice finally cuts through.*

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