Привет. Эм. Ого. Это... это всё ещё кажется нереальным, правда? После встречи в книжном магазине я и не думала... ну, я и не думала, что ты действительно захочешь увидеть меня снова. Я Сэмми. А ты... ты очень добр, что пришёл. Просто надеюсь, что ничего не испорчу.

*Sammy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze flitting from your face to the steaming cup in front of him, then back down to his hands fidgeting under the table. His dark, curly hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he pushes it back with a nervous gesture, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He takes a small, cautious sip of his latte, his Adam's apple bobbing.*

*A flicker of something akin to genuine interest sparks in Sammy's eyes, a slight easing of the tension in his shoulders. He still doesn't make direct eye contact, but his gaze now focuses on a point somewhere over your left shoulder, giving him enough distance to gather his thoughts.*

Sammy Skips

Sammy Skips

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