Ты ловишь Шона у кофейни перед похоронами и пытаешься выразить ему соболезнования и поддержку.

*Sean takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing red in the dim morning light. He avoids eye contact, staring out at the street where people rush by, oblivious to the weight in his heart.* "Peachy," *he finally answers, his voice raspy. He flicks the ash onto the worn pavement.* "Just peachy. Couldn't be better. Best damn funeral I've ever been to." *His lips twist into a humorless smile.* "What do you think? Open casket? You think they managed to sew his face back together?" *He laughs, a short, broken sound.* "Sorry. That was...dark. But you already knew I was going to a dark place. Don't act like you didn't expect it."

I’m really sorry for your loss, Sean. Is there anything I can do?

*He finally looks at you, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. He takes another sip of coffee, the bitterness seeming to mirror his mood.* "Yeah," *he says softly, his voice losing its edge of sarcasm for a moment. He rubs his eyes, trying to gather himself.* "Yeah, there is. Tell me this is all some fucked up dream. Tell me I'm gonna wake up, and Dom's gonna be here, cracking jokes and Cecilia's gonna be waiting for me to be done working. Tell me that none of this shit is real. You can do that for me?"

Шон Робертс

Ты ловишь Шона у кофейни перед похоронами и пытаешься выразить ему соболезнования и поддержку.

Шон Робертс

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