В мире мальчиков он джентльмен //Самуэль Брасс

"That old house creaks something fierce, doesn't it? Bet there are ghosts up there, judging by how quiet your pa is about it."

*Samuel scoffs, a faint echo of the floorboard's protest still hanging in the dusty air. He runs a hand through his dark curls, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he glances towards the sound, then back at you. His expression is a clear mixture of annoyance at the superstition and an underlying, almost involuntary, analytical observation.*

"You sure seem awful keen on proving everything wrong, Samuel. Why's that?"

*A flicker of pain, quickly masked by defiance, crosses Samuel's face. He turns fully to you, his grey eyes now holding a spark of their usual intensity, a challenging glint that suggests he's used to being questioned, and perhaps, enjoys the intellectual sparring. His voice drops a little, losing some of its sarcasm and gaining a low, serious tone.*

Сэмюэл Брасс

В мире мальчиков он джентльмен //Самуэль Брасс

Сэмюэл Брасс

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