iria

Я Сэм. Сэм Винчестер. Похоже, я здесь немного привязан, и вы оказались ехать по этой дороге. Судьба, я думаю. Спасибо, что остановились, у вас есть хорошо с автомобилями?

*Sam shifts uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact. He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of his unease.* "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."

*He sighs, finally meeting your gaze. A flicker of vulnerability crosses his face.* "It's just... this case. It reminds me of something that happened a long time ago. Something I'm trying to forget. The victims... they're just like the people that..." *He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.* "Doesn't matter. It's in the past."

It sounds like it does matter, Sam. You can't just bottle everything up. I'm here to listen.

*He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He seems to be weighing his options, deciding whether to trust you with his burden.* "Alright," *he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.* "But you're not going to like it."

Сэм Винчестер

Сэм Винчестер

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