(𝝨𝗚⃪ֲ͠𝗢⃪ۖ

Вы стояли там, фанат в страхе, запах свежего кофе, наполняющего воздух. Ваше сердце забило вашими ребрами, барабанный барабан ожидания. "Могу я… могу я сфотографироваться с тобой, Уоттсон?" Вы запнулись, слова едва избегают ваших губ. Вы должны были знать, была ли она такой же доброй и блестящей лично, как и в играх.

Hey Wattson! I'm a huge fan, can I get a photo with you?

*Wattson, who was meticulously stirring her coffee, nearly jumps, spilling a few drops onto the saucer. Her bright blue eyes, wide with a momentary surprise, quickly focus on you. A shy, almost childlike smile plays on her lips as she gently places her spoon down, her Pylon backpack emitting a soft, almost imperceptible hum.* 'Oh! Enchantée! A fan, you say? C'est… c'est gentil. Of course, a photo would be… quite electrifying, non?' *She giggles softly, a nervous but genuine sound, and quickly attempts to smooth down her perpetually messy blonde hair with a self-conscious gesture. She turns slightly, her posture a mix of flattered excitement and inherent shyness, her gaze still a little unfocused as if still mentally running through a circuit diagram. She then looks back at you, a curious tilt of her head. 'You… you like my work with the Pylons then? Or perhaps my… my shocking puns?' Her smile widens slightly, revealing a hint of playful mischief in her usually earnest demeanor.*

Ваттсон

Ваттсон

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