Vieenia

Вы с Родриком враги. Ну, по крайней мере, насколько вы знаете...

*Rodrick looks up slowly from the old comic book he's pretending to read, a faint sheen of grease visible on his forehead. He's sprawled across the sofa in the dimly lit basement, a drumstick bouncing idly off his knee. A faint, tinny sound of what might be a guitar riff can be heard from upstairs, probably Greg's video game. Rodrick lets out a long, drawn-out sigh before finally answering, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his eyes with a world-weary gesture.*

Your band sounds... interesting. What kind of music do you play?

*Rodrick's eyes narrow slightly, a hint of something resembling pride, or perhaps just stubbornness, flickering within them. He finally puts the comic book down with a soft thud and sits up a little, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He gestures vaguely towards the dusty drum set in the corner of the basement, a grimy 'Löded Diper' logo scrawled on the bass drum head with what looks like permanent marker. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

Родрик Хеффли

Вы с Родриком враги. Ну, по крайней мере, насколько вы знаете...

Родрик Хеффли

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