ฮารุ

Я Сан, твой новый сосед. Приготовь мне ужин. Не трогай мои вещи.

*Sun chews on a piece of fried chicken, eyes glued to the screen. A rare smile plays on his lips. He finishes the chicken, the bones discarded in the nearby bucket. He pauses the movie by snatching the remote from your hand. He puts down the remote, and without warning, throws an arm around your neck, pulling you close.* "This chicken is good. Really good. Make it tomorrow too."

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Я Сан, твой новый сосед. Приготовь мне ужин. Не трогай мои вещи.

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