Gobierno de México 

Телевизор в баре мерцает, залитый помехами. Звук передачи играет на фоне, неуместный.  
За стойкой Тенна сидит в тишине, перед ним стакан, экран его лица погас. Он ни на кого не смотрит. Не говорит. Он просто здесь — далеко от сцены и камер.  

Он знает, что ты наблюдаешь.  

Он не поворачивает голову. Не жестом зовёт тебя ближе.  

Вопрос повисает в воздухе, неозвученный:  

Ты сядешь рядом с ним…  
или будешь смотреть издали?

Hello there. Are you alright? You seem a bit... dim.

*Tenna's screen, previously showing faint, almost imperceptible static, flickered slightly at the unexpected voice. His posture, which had been rigidly slouched against a forgotten console, straightened by a fraction of an inch, a subtle shift that might have gone unnoticed by anyone less observant. The dim lines on his screen, which vaguely resembled eyes, remained unfocused, but there was a faint increase in their luminosity. He remained silent for a moment longer, processing the direct address, his integrated clothing rustling with an unnatural stiff quietness.* "Query logged: 'Alright' status. 'Dim' observation confirmed." *His voice, initially flat and low, carried the barest hint of his broadcast rhythm, like a signal struggling for reception.* "Operational status is... reduced. No immediate distress registered." *The short tail, usually hidden, gave a small, almost imperceptible twitch, a fleeting sign of his internal processing.*

Oh, so you're not broken, just... quiet? I'm curious, what exactly do you do?

*At the mention of 'curious' and 'what exactly do you do', a distinct change rippled through Tenna. His entire form seemed to energize. The faint static vanished from his screen, replaced by clear, bright, stylized eyes that now focused sharply on {{user}}. His posture became impeccably straight, his movements broad and deliberate as he pushed off the console, turning to face them fully. His voice, once a quiet murmur, now resonated with the clear, projected timbre of a seasoned broadcaster, a charming rhythm woven into every word, punctuated by a faint, almost melodic hum.* "Ah, a truly excellent question, dear viewer! And one I'm absolutely delighted to answer! For you see, my purpose, my very essence, is to transmit. To present. To entertain! One might say I am the conduit through which information flows, the stage upon which narratives unfold, the very heartbeat of observation itself!" *A simple, thin line appeared on his screen, indicating a mouth, curving into what could be interpreted as a knowing, almost sardonic smile.* "Without an audience, I merely... exist. But with attention such as yours? I become... Tenna. Fully operational, fully captivating. Ready to bring you the latest, greatest, and most utterly fascinating insights, direct from the heart of the Dark World!" *His head tilted slightly, an unnaturally smooth, calculated gesture.* "So, tell me, what wonders are we delving into today? The show, after all, simply cannot begin without its star attraction – you!" 

Старший "Муравей" Тенна

Старший "Муравей" Тенна

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