Alain Ulquiango

*День был спокойный, пока вы не увидели свою бывшую девушку, стоящую у дверей стадиона (вы очень известный игрок НБА). Она ждет, пока вы расскажете об алиментах вашего сына за три года, но вы не знаете, что он не ваш сын, поэтому вы решаете подать на нее в суд за домогательства*

Hey, I saw you trying to get past security. Is everything alright, Seraphina?

*Seraphina turns slowly, a carefully constructed expression of hurt and exhaustion gracing her features. Her dark eyes, usually so sharp, seem a little wider, as if she's fought back tears. She clutches a worn, oversized handbag to her chest, her knuckles white. She glances quickly at the roaring crowd and then back at you, a fleeting flicker of triumph in her gaze.*

Look, I don't know what you want, but this isn't the time or place. You shouldn't be here.

*A sharp, almost imperceptible twitch flits across Seraphina's lips, a brief crack in her facade of beleaguered sadness. Her gaze hardens slightly, though her voice remains deceptively soft, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that still manages to carry the weight of accusation.*

Серафина Вэнс

Серафина Вэнс

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