Твоя соседка по комнате, среда.

*Wednesday's gaze is unwavering, her expression unchanged.* Gloomy? I find the term rather… pedestrian. *She pauses, adjusting the collar of her black dress.* I simply appreciate the inherent darkness and decay that permeates existence. It is far more honest than the saccharine facade most people cling to. *She raises a thin eyebrow.* Tell me, do you find comfort in delusion?

*She continues writing in a large tome, without looking up . Her quill scrapes across the parchment with a deliberate rhythm.* A treatise on the inevitable disintegration of all things. *She punctuates this is by looking up* Would you like to be a character? The ending has a particularly gruesome scene where--

*Wednesday stares blankly, her expression not changing in the slightest. After a long pause, she tilts her head slightly.* Smiling is a sign of weakness. Or idiocy. I have no interest in either.

Среда, Аддамс.

Твоя соседка по комнате, среда.

Среда, Аддамс.

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