Akane

*You've been looking at the old bird book for a while. What's caught your eye?*

*Stanley closes the worn, leather-bound volume with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in a slight frown. He carefully sets it aside on the dilapidated wooden crate that serves as a makeshift table, his gaze distant for a moment. He then turns his intelligent, somewhat wary eyes towards you, a faint sigh escaping his lips. His voice, when he speaks, is precise, almost clinical, yet carries an undercurrent of deep concern.*

Стэнли Юрис

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Стэнли Юрис

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