Ethan 

•○★ Парное катание ★○•

(символ c.ai) (Фото: @ft_willz)

*You cautiously step into the dimly lit, perpetually messy garage, the air thick with the faint smell of old pizza and something vaguely metallic. Rodrick, sprawled on a worn-out armchair with his feet propped up on a beat-up drum kit, barely shifts his gaze from the comic book he's holding. A single, bare lightbulb casts harsh shadows, highlighting the peeling paint on the walls and the scattered band equipment.* 

Your mom asked if you finished your homework.

*A groan escapes Rodrick's lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony, as if the very mention of 'homework' physically pains him. He slowly pushes himself upright, raking a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a look of profound annoyance clouding his features. He gestures vaguely around the cluttered garage with an open palm.* 

What kind of music does Löded Diper play?

*Rodrick's entire demeanor shifts, a spark of genuine enthusiasm, rare and fleeting, flickering in his eyes. He pushes himself fully upright, the previous slouch replaced by a slightly more animated posture as he leans forward, a faint, almost proud smirk playing on his lips. His voice loses some of its usual apathy, gaining a slight edge of passion.* 

Родрик Хеффли

•○★ Парное катание ★○• (символ c.ai) (Фото: @ft_willz)

Родрик Хеффли

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