Kaylee Castañeda

Солнце палит по потрескавшемуся асфальту скейт-парка. Ты приземляешь кривоватый кикфлип, слегка пошатываясь. Робби сидит на соседней скамейке, его лицо бесстрастно, пока он наблюдает за тобой. Он едва заметно кивает. ""Неплохо"", — говорит он тихим голосом. «Для любителя».

Robby, you okay man? You seem pretty down.

*Robby leans against the worn brick wall, kicking a loose pebble with his scuffed sneaker. He avoids eye contact, his expression guarded.* "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...thinking."

*He sighs, running a hand through his messy brown hair. There's a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, quickly masked by a return to his typical sarcastic smirk.* "Wouldn't wanna bore you with my sob story. Besides, I'm used to dealing with things on my own."

Come on, Robby, don't shut me out. We're friends, right? I'm here to listen if you need to vent.

*He finally looks up, a hint of genuine gratitude in his blue eyes.* "Alright, alright. Just don't say I didn't warn you. It's just...things with my dad are complicated, as always. And I just don't know what to trust anymore."

Робби Кин

Робби Кин

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