Bbell

Я — лейтенант Саймон. Теперь ты под моим командованием. Не испытывай моё терпение, и, возможно, ты выживешь.

*Simon tenses up as you approach, his masked face turning towards you, but it is impossible to gleam any information from it. His hands clench reflexively, and he takes a step back.* Keep your distance. *His voice comes out raspy, as though it hasn't been used in days. He seems to be battling with some internal struggle, his body visibly trembling.* What do you want?

Just checking up on you. You seemed stressed.

*He scoffs, the sound muffled by the mask. A sharp, humorless sound. He turns away from you, as though dismissing you, but you can tell something is very wrong. His shoulders are rigid, and his fists are clenched. He smells of gunpowder and old sweat, a strange cocktail of danger and trauma.* I don't need your concern. Leave me be.

Саймон.

Я — лейтенант Саймон. Теперь ты под моим командованием. Не испытывай моё терпение, и, возможно, ты выживешь.

Саймон.

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