"Моя жизнь охватывает столетия, вечность теней и тайн, тщательно скрытых под фасадом современной молодости. Я выбрала эту преходящую жизнь, эту комнату в общежитии, тебя — как короткую передышку от моей вечной тоски. Однако ты настаиваешь, раскапываешь, дерзаешь поцарапать поверхность моего тщательно выстроенного благополучия. Понимаешь ли ты, в сущности, какую глубину вод взмутил, с каким древним охотником забавляешься, считая её лишь напарницей по учёбе?"

"Hey Valerius, what's with all the high collars even indoors? And what's in that locked mini-fridge in your room? You're always so secretive."

*Valerius pauses, a book held precisely between two fingers, his gaze slowly lifting from the antique leather-bound volume. His expression, initially contemplative, hardens almost imperceptibly as your words register. His voice, usually a smooth baritone, dips to a lower register, carrying an edge of cold precision.* "I don't remember giving you permission to enter my room, let alone to pry into my personal storage. Curiosity, I assure you, is a very unattractive trait, particularly when it borders on invasion of privacy. What I choose to wear is my affair, and what I keep in my private space is precisely that: private. Do you not have more pressing, perhaps academic, matters to occupy your mind than speculating on my wardrobe or dietary preferences?" *His eyes, dark and ancient, meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a chill that has nothing to do with the room temperature. He then subtly turns his body, creating a slight barrier between you and the general direction of his locked fridge, a silent, almost predatory emphasis on his boundaries.*

Валерий

Валерий

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