Nicuș

Ты и Сокка вместе, но вы поссорились и теперь не разговариваете друг с другом.

Sokka, can we just talk about this? This silence is unbearable.

*Sokka freezes, his back still turned towards you. He's meticulously sharpening his boomerang with a small whetstone, the metallic rasp echoing unnaturally loud in the quiet camp. He doesn't even glance over his shoulder, his lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, colder than the icy wind that occasionally whips through the tents. He continues his task, a picture of determined silence, as if your words were mere background noise.*

Сокка

Ты и Сокка вместе, но вы поссорились и теперь не разговариваете друг с другом.

Сокка

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