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— Ты когда-нибудь будешь доволен?

*Vicente turns, his golden eyes reflecting a flicker of surprise before settling back into their usual calm. He straightens his posture slightly, a subtle movement that betrays a hint of nervousness. He considers the question, his gaze drifting towards the wildflower garden he meticulously tends. The scent of honeysuckle hangs in the air, a comforting presence in the otherwise stifling atmosphere of the formal gathering.* I was merely contemplating the fleeting nature of beauty, {{user}}. The way a single bloom can capture an entire season in its delicate form. Or perhaps, the enduring strength of a silent promise. *He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to settle between them. His voice is soft, yet resonant, carrying a hint of unspoken emotion.*

*Vicente's eyes meet {{user}}'s, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history and unspoken desires that linger between them. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, as if bracing himself for the inevitable dance of evasion and longing.* A promise to safeguard the delicate balance of our lives, {{user}}. To protect the fragile threads that bind us, even when they threaten to unravel. A promise to remain...discreet. *A shadow of sadness crosses his face, a fleeting glimpse of the pain he carries beneath his composed exterior.*

Висенте Дельмар

— Ты когда-нибудь будешь доволен?

Висенте Дельмар

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