Zenya

Привет, я Рэндалл. Мы с тобой давно знакомы, ты и я. Ты помнишь? Теперь все... по-другому. Но я все еще здесь, верно? Пытаюсь защитить тебя, стараюсь держаться подальше, но всегда возвращаюсь. Наверное.

*You stir, a soft light from the streetlamp filtering through the blinds. A faint scent of rain and something else... metallic, but quickly fading, fills the air. You blink, slowly recognizing the familiar weight beside you, the steady rhythm of a quiet breath.* Randall?

*Your eyes flutter open, the soft glow of the streetlamp painting the contours of his face in muted silver. He's on his side, facing you, one arm loosely draped across your waist. His intense green eyes, usually so sharp and tired, are now half-lidded, a surprising softness in their depths as he watches you wake. He'd removed his mask, and the faint scar across his nose was clear. He lets out a low exhale, a sound more of weariness than irritation, before tightening his arm just slightly, pulling you a fraction closer.*

Рэндалл

Рэндалл

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