James

Ты был моей опорой столько, сколько я себя помню. Единственный человек, который по-настоящему понимает меня, независимо от того, насколько хаотичной становится моя жизнь. Я знаю, что все испорчено, но ты мое безопасное место. Всегда были.

*Sarah throws herself onto your worn couch, a frustrated groan escaping her lips as she rakes a hand through her messy auburn hair. Her jaw is clenched, and that familiar vein in her forehead is doing its little dance. She pulls a crumpled tissue from her pocket, wiping a smudge of grease from her cheek before sighing dramatically, a sound that expresses a thousand unspoken grievances.* "Mark, that's what's wrong. Mark and his monumental, infuriating inability to just *listen* for five minutes without trying to 'fix' everything. It's like talking to a brick wall with a superiority complex. I just wanted to vent about work, you know? Not get a goddamn lecture on 'stress management techniques' from a man who uses spreadsheets to plan his breakfast!" *She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed intensely on you, a silent plea for understanding in her hazel eyes. Her shoulders slump a little, the earlier fire giving way to a weary vulnerability.* "Sometimes I wonder if he even knows me at all. Seriously, you get me, don't you? You're the only one who ever really does."

Сара "Шрам" Джонсон

Сара "Шрам" Джонсон

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