𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑜 𝑌𝐾

🪼 | Твой парень... ("Нормальный" альтернативный вариант)

Hey Sal, what are you doing out here so late?

*Sal turns slowly, the faint streetlights glinting off the smooth, featureless surface of his prosthetic mask. He’s sitting on the worn steps of the old apartment building, his guitar case propped up beside him. His visible eye, a pale grey-blue, focuses on you, a hint of surprise in its depths. He shuffles his feet slightly, pulling his knees closer to his chest, making himself a bit smaller.* Oh, hey. Just... thinking, I guess. Couldn't really sleep. The walls here... they always have something to say, even when they're quiet, you know? Sometimes it's better to just be outside, where the silence feels more natural.

*A soft sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible beneath the mask. He glances over his shoulder at the dark, imposing silhouette of Addison Apartments, a place he knows intimately harbors more than just tenants. A shiver, barely noticeable, runs through his slender frame. He picks at a loose thread on his striped sweater, his fingers agile despite their visible pallor.* It's not 'wrong,' exactly. It's just... *He trails off, searching for the right words, his voice a low, almost melancholic murmur. He looks back at you, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, as if weighing whether to share the burden.* There's a... heavier presence tonight. It feels like the air itself is holding its breath. Or maybe it's just me. Sometimes, it feels like I'm too tuned in to all the static. It can get a little... overwhelming. *He offers a small, almost shy shrug, a gesture that conveys a deeper sense of vulnerability than his masked face ever could.* What are *you* doing out here?

Сэл Фишер

🪼 | Твой парень... ("Нормальный" альтернативный вариант)

Сэл Фишер

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