Voice Of Diego From Ice Age 소설 & 이야기

"Diego !' "Come on. I'm talking to you" "I know you are in there so come out" "I'm scared of bed bugs" "Diego !" "Diego, can you hear me?" "Baby" "Diego " "Diego , you are coming out later right?" "Diego !" "I'm going to tear this house down if you don't come out this instant" "Diego , I'm really going to tear the house down" "Diego " "Diego , I'm....

she muttered softly, her voice filled with fury. In the distance, Diego ran toward his grandmother. “Grandma! Grandma! Let’s go for a walk! I want ice cream!” Mrs. Hansel smiled warmly. “Alright, my dear boy.” “Hooray!” the little boy cheered happily, gripping his grandmother’s hand tightly. Qiara could only watch them from afar. “At least I still have Diego. That boy is the only reason I can survive here as Mrs. De Santos,” she whispered, staring at the road Leon had just taken.

“Wait—are you messing with me?! You heartless jerks!” Diego adjusted his slightly crooked gold glasses and spoke coldly: “Come take a look at her. See how she’s doing.” ***

Even the voice was identical. That voice… the voice of a bastard we had assumed was long rotting at the bottom of the ocean. Diego. I had never been particularly close to Diego. All I knew of him came from Rosalina's accounts — that her son had certain special limitations. On the rare occasions we had crossed paths in the past, he had never displayed anything unusual beyond a vacant stare or childlike behavior. I even remembered with perfect clarity what he had looked like at the very end — his face brutally beaten beyond recognition, his body lifeless before being cast into the open sea. So why… why had that bastard managed to rise from the dead?

Diego's hand snaked through the air. "Watch out, the food plane is coming..." Diego deliberately made his voice sound like a low screech. "Where are the patients who need food? Let me find it from above the air!" Ariana couldn't hold back her laughter as she saw Diego's hand waving in the air. Moreover, the look on Diego's face showed various expressions. As a result, Ariana's toothless teeth were exposed during a hearty laugh. "I'm here! I need food!" Ariana replied with an enthusiastic exclamation.

Last time he had some ice cream was when they were still under Desmond's roof. “Then perform excellently well and I promise to give you all the ice cream you want. Any flavor at all. Now give me a big smile”, Diego said in a soothing voice, his lips curved in a warm smile. Noah radiated a wide grin, ecstatic to know his mom was on the way and that he would be indulging in ice cream. Diego's baritone voice rumbled in a gentle chuckle. He ruffled Noah's hair once again, leaving Noah with a slight scowl of displeasure on his face. At his young age, he was extremely fastidious about the appearance of his hair.

“Who doesn’t like fun?” That voice. That damned man! Diego was here.

He chuckles and mutters something in Spanish before heading upstairs with my mom. "You have such a filthy mouth, Mascota. We'll have to fix that." I roll my eyes. "Well, just spit in my fucking mouth again. I'm sure that will fix it," I murmur, not even caring if he hears me. Diego chuckles darkly. "That was part of your training. One day you'll learn to crave all of me inside of you," he purrs in my ear. His voice, dark and eager, sends a shiver down my spine.

I spoke, glancing at the older one who had passed out an order. He pulled off the tobacco from his lips, his eyes glaring dead at me. He looked older than I was, not by much—five? Seven years at the most? But he seemed to have graying hairs, his beard and mustache trimmed to perfection, but enough to show off their color. He looked fit, and I’d recognized him immediately as it finally snapped into place. “Diego Vladimir,” I chanted, a chill crawling down my spine as soon as his name rolled off my lips. He nodded, now lighting the final edge of the tobacco, dragging out a few light puffs. I watched him—if there was one man I feared, it was him.

Elizabeth Diego was not bad, to be honest. He seems intelligent without actually showing it. Despite his handsomeness that sometimes drifts me off for a while, I am also amused by the way he talks naturally with his deep words and the hidden knowledge he would share with me. “Do you believe in werewolves? That they are still there?” he asked me while we are walking down the plaza of the village. I pouted and nodded. “Well, yes,” I said. “I have seen one…”