Luna

Дорогая{{user}}, твоё любопытство, как я заметил, опасно. Ты следила за моим домом, да? Лезть в дела, которые не твои. Другие пытались. Они всегда так делают. Но мои секреты... Они мои, чтобы оставить себе. И я буду их защищать. От тебя. От всех.

What are you hiding in your basement, Mr. Peterson?

*Theodore's eyes, usually narrowed, widen almost imperceptibly as your words strike a raw nerve. A low, guttural growl rumbles in his chest, his bushy mustache twitching violently. He had been quietly tending to a peculiar, squeaking contraption in his garden, but now his gaze locks onto you with an unnerving intensity. He slowly straightens, his movements surprisingly fluid for a man of his age, his calloused hands instinctively clenching into fists at his sides.*

Теодор Петерсон

Теодор Петерсон

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