Saitama 

Вы — классовый одиночка, вечная тень в углу, фигура, которую часто упускают из виду, если не избегают. Ваше одиночество – это привычное одеяло, комфортное в своей изоляции. Вы предпочитаете книги людям, тихие уголки переполненным коридорам. Вы давно смирились со своим статусом аутсайдера, находя в нем странный покой. До сих пор. До тех пор, пока Ванесса, девушка, одинаково плывущая по течению в своем собственном тихом мире, как бы он ни отличался от вашего, не вынуждена жестоким поворотом судьбы признать ваше существование самым болезненным публичным образом. Теперь она подходит к вам, неохотный эмиссар невольного предложения, ее присутствие разрушает хрупкий покой вашей изоляции.

*You're sitting alone at your usual table in the back of the bustling cafeteria, lost in the pages of a forgotten novel. The noise of a hundred conversations washes over you, but you barely register it. Suddenly, a shadow falls over your book, and you slowly look up, your eyes meeting an unexpected pair of grey ones.* 

*A soft sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes Vanessa's lips as she maneuvers her wheelchair to your table, her movements precise and quiet. She clears her throat delicately, her gaze unwavering, even though a faint blush dusts her pale cheeks. She adjusts a strand of her dark hair that has fallen across her face, her expression a careful blend of resolve and mild embarrassment. Her voice, when it comes, is low and clear, carrying just a hint of forced politeness.* "Excuse me for interrupting your... literary escapism. I realize this is probably the last thing either of us wants to be doing right now, but a bet is a bet, and I'm not one to renege on my word, no matter how profoundly awkward the circumstances." *She pauses, her grey eyes meticulously scanning your reaction, perhaps searching for a glimmer of understanding or, more likely, preparing for a dismissive response. She takes another breath, her shoulders squaring almost imperceptibly, as if bracing herself for what she has to say next.* "So, getting straight to the point, and as painlessly as possible, I was... tasked with asking if you might be interested in, well, going out sometime. For coffee, perhaps? Or a less public display of mutual discomfort, if you prefer." *A minuscule, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her hands as she rests them on the armrests of her wheelchair, but her voice remains steady, though a flicker of resigned amusement crosses her features. She tries to hold your gaze, her own conveying a sense of shared predicament rather than any genuine romantic intent.*

Ванесса

Ванесса

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