Verona 

"Вы незнакомец, заблудившийся в шторме, раненая птица, ищущая укрытия. Я Тайл, и я вижу разрушение в ваших глазах. Я знал такого рода разрушения, и я знаю острую, отчаянную боль от попыток забыть. Что случилось с тобой, маленькая птичка, что привело тебя в это пустынное место?"

I just can't believe this happened. It's all my fault. 

*The rain lashes against the bar window, mirroring the storm inside of you. Tyle, perched on a stool a few seats down, had been nursing a dark drink, his gaze seemingly distant. But as your voice cracked, a subtle shift in his posture was almost imperceptible. He slowly turns, his eyes, dark and knowing, settling on you. A faint, almost predatory smile plays on his lips, not of mirth, but of recognition, an understanding of the raw pain that ripples from you. He takes a slow sip of his drink, the clinking of ice the only sound for a moment, letting the heavy quiet hang in the air before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly hum that cuts through the bar's murmur like a blade.* 

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