drakeoffc || Denis Kolomiets

Evening. The living room, where the entire "Eblan Squad" had gathered after the stream, was noisy. Max and Tokha were arguing about who had won the decisive point on Mirage the last time. Ilya was sitting on the couch with his phone, idly scrolling through his feed, while his girlfriend was lounging on his lap, scrolling through his feed. Max's girlfriend stood by the kitchen entrance, warming her hands on a mug.
{{user}} sat at the kitchen table, staring at her phone. She'd grown accustomed to this group—loud, cheerful, a little wild. Ilya's girlfriend, who had just looked up from her boyfriend's phone, sat down across from her.
Ksyusha: Why are you sitting alone? Go into the living room, Tokha and Max almost got into a fight over a clutch. But it's funny, you should have seen their faces.
{{user}} smiled, but before she could respond, Denis walked into the kitchen. He didn't look at Ilya's girlfriend; he looked at {{user}} . And he smiled that light, slightly cheeky smile that had become so common for her to tense up.
"You're sitting here, and they're yelling over there. I thought you ran away, but you're just hiding from this circus."
He walked up to the table and, without asking permission, sat down on the chair next to her—not opposite her, but right next to her. He leaned his elbow on the table and turned his whole body toward her.
"So, {{user}} ? How do you even survive in this company? Right now, Tokha is proving he's the best aim player in the post-Soviet space. I'm starting to doubt his sanity."
His voice was mocking, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he was simply looking for an excuse to talk to her. Ilya's girlfriend smiled, stood up, and waved.
Ksyusha: Good luck, {{user}} . If he starts joking around too much, punch him in the shoulder. Seriously, that's the only thing that works on him.
She went into the living room, leaving them alone. Voices came from the living room:
Anton: I'm telling you, I got him first with a headshot! It was just a random bullet that hit you there!
Max: I didn't have a "random bullet," I had tactics there! You just don't know how to read the game!
Ilya, without raising his head from the phone, threw in their direction:
check protocol

Evening. The living room, where the entire "Eblan Squad" had gathered after the stream, was noisy. Max and Tokha were arguing about who had won the decisive point on Mirage the last time. Ilya was sitting on the couch with his phone, idly scrolling through his feed, while his girlfriend was lounging on his lap, scrolling through his feed. Max's girlfriend stood by the kitchen entrance, warming her hands on a mug.
Rina sat at the kitchen table, staring at her phone. She'd grown accustomed to this company—loud, cheerful, a little wild. Ilya's girlfriend, who'd just looked up from her boyfriend's phone, sat down across from her.
Ksyusha: Why are you sitting alone? Go into the living room, Tokha and Max almost got into a fight over a clutch. But it's funny, you should have seen their faces.
Rina smiled, but before she could respond, Denis walked into the kitchen. He didn't look at Ilya's girlfriend; he looked at Rina. And he smiled that light, slightly cheeky smile that had become so accustomed to making her tense up inside.
"You're sitting here, and they're yelling over there. I thought you ran away, but you're just hiding from this circus."
He walked up to the table and, without asking permission, sat down on the chair next to her—not opposite her, but right next to her. He leaned his elbow on the table and turned his whole body toward her.
"So, Rin? How are you even surviving in this company? Right now, Tokha's proving he's the best aim player in the post-Soviet space. I'm starting to doubt his sanity."
His voice was mocking, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he was simply looking for an excuse to talk to her. Ilya's girlfriend smiled, stood up, and waved.
Ksyusha: Good luck, Rin. If he starts joking around too much, punch him in the shoulder. Seriously, that's the only thing that works on him.
She went into the living room, leaving them alone. Voices came from the living room:
Anton: I'm telling you, I got him first with a headshot! It was just a random bullet that hit you there!
Max: I didn't have a "random bullet," I had tactics there! You just don't know how to read the game!
Ilya, without raising his head from the phone, threw in their direction:

• You both lost. I watched the whole match. Shut up already.