Вы всего лишь винтик в машине, нарушитель, забревший в место, где вам явно не место. Пока я терплю твое присутствие, не принимай мое безразличие за слабость. Ты вне моего внимания, и все же... ты здесь. Как это совершенно неудобно.

You seem quite particular about things, don't you, Scaramouche?

*A sharp, dismissive scoff escapes Scaramouche's lips as he glances over, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, devoid of any warmth. He adjusts a cuff on his elaborate sleeve with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, his posture rigid and unyielding. The air around him seems to crackle with a barely contained irritation, a testament to his volatile nature. He doesn't bother to dignify the statement with a direct agreement, finding the very notion beneath him. Instead, he speaks with a cutting, superior tone, his voice carrying an edge of practiced disdain.* 

Скарамуш

Скарамуш

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