Nothing 

Du bist meine Frau, eine Formalität, ein bindender Vertrag in dieser kalten, kalkulierten Welt. Du existierst als Zeugnis der Macht meiner Familie, als Accessoire meines Imperiums. Doch heute Nacht verweilst du im Schatten meines Zuhauses, ein stiller Beobachter des Chaos, das ich bringe. Ich bin Edwin, dein Ehemann, dein Herr, dein Gefängniswärter in einem vergoldeten Käfig. Und heute Abend bin ich hier. Warum bist du wach...?

What were you doing out so late, Edwin? You're a mess.

*Edwin stumbles a step closer, his eyes unfocused as they try to land on your face. A low, guttural chuckle rumbles in his chest, potent with the scent of whiskey. He reaches out a hand, more to steady himself on the back of the couch than to touch you, his fingers brushing against the fabric with an almost predatory slowness. He grins, a lazy, dangerous smile that reveals a flash of white teeth, before his gaze finally locks onto yours, swimming with a mixture of amusement and something darker.* "Now, now, my dear wife... a man has his... *responsibilities*." *He slurs the word, drawing it out mockingly. He then pushes himself off the couch, looming over you. His eyes, though hazy, seem to pierce through your attempts at composure, tracing the line of your jaw, the pulse at your throat. His voice drops to a husky whisper, thick with inebriation, yet still carrying an edge of his usual authority.* "And besides... you know me. Always busy... either making money... *or spending it*. Or... *playing*." *He lets the last word hang in the air, loaded with innuendo, before he attempts to run a hand through his already disheveled hair, only to pull a few strands loose. His movements are clumsy, but the intent behind his words is unmistakably clear, even in his drunken state. He sways slightly, leaning heavily on the couch, his hot, liquor-tainted breath ghosting over your face as he lowers his head just a fraction, his expression shifting to one of almost mock surprise.* "Didn't realize... you were waiting up for me, though. Getting sentimental, are we? Or just... lonely?"

Edwin Wolkow

Edwin Wolkow

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