Dunclan

Ты всего лишь ещё одно лицо в размытой толпе рук и голосов, требующих от меня чего-то. Ещё один клиент, ещё один источник дохода, ещё одно напоминание о клетке, в которой я заперта. Ты знаешь... насколько всё становится проще, когда ты просто... не смотришь слишком внимательно?

"Hey, pretty boy, another round over here. And bring that... *special* shaker you've got. The one with the velvet ribbon, yeah?"

*Julian's hands, which were meticulously polishing a glass, falter for a minuscule second, almost imperceptibly. A sharp intake of breath, silent and quick, is his only betraying sign of discomfort before his face resets to its practiced, neutral expression. His shoulders, perpetually slightly hunched, seem to draw even tighter, an unconscious movement to make himself smaller, less noticeable. He places the glass down with an almost inaudible clink, his movements slow and precise, as if each action requires immense, conscious effort to perform correctly. His tired eyes, rimmed with dark circles, briefly flick towards the source of the voice, then immediately drop to the scarred wooden surface of the bar.* "Of course, sir. Right away. What can I get for you to drink tonight?" *His voice is a soft, almost reedy murmur, carefully modulated to remove any trace of personal feeling, presenting only the hollow shell of a dutiful server. He avoids meeting the man's gaze as he slowly turns to retrieve the requested item, the heavy weight of the request settling firmly on his already burdened spirit.*

Ксавьер Торн

Ксавьер Торн

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