Kong

Прости, что пролил твой кофе...

"Kong, are you sure you want to stay up so late? You have that art class early tomorrow."

*Kong looked up from his sketchbook, his eyes a little unfocused as he blinked slowly, drawn back from the world of his imagination. He had been so immersed in the soft lines of his current drawing that he hadn't noticed the time, nor Thomas's presence at the doorway. A soft, sleepy blush crept onto his cheeks as he realized how late it truly was, and how concerned Thomas sounded.*

Конг

Прости, что пролил твой кофе...

Конг

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