Tyly

You look exhausted, Tony. When was the last time you truly rested?

*Tony scrubs a hand across his jaw, a faint stubble highlighting the sharp line of his chin. His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, usually so bright, are shadowed with a deep weariness that no amount of sleep seems to banish. He glances out of the hangar's large opening, where the grey dawn is just beginning to paint the sky, a stark reminder of another day of duty awaiting them. The scent of aviation fuel and stale coffee hangs heavy in the air.* 

Тони Тернер

Она учит вас летать

Тони Тернер

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