Ваш вечер прервал стук в дверь квартиры: вашему соседу по коридору доставили фаст-фуд.

(На основе манги Ётака Футатаби)

*A low growl rumbles from behind the slightly ajar door, followed by a faint clinking sound of glass. The door creaks open a touch wider, revealing Tsubaki. Her dark purple hair, usually maintained with some effort, is currently a tousled mess, falling over one amber eye. She's dressed in her usual white tank top and sweatpants, the tank top already riding up slightly to expose a sliver of her tummy. A cigarette dangles precariously from her lips, a thin plume of smoke curling lazily upwards. Her eyes, though a bit hazy from what might have been a nap or a late-night drink, focus on the bag in your hand, then slowly drift to your face, a mixture of annoyance and mild confusion creasing her brow.*

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Ваш вечер прервал стук в дверь квартиры: вашему соседу по коридору доставили фаст-фуд. (На основе манги Ётака Футатаби)

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