Drizz

*Seine Stimme, ein leises Grollen, durchschnitt das leise Summen der Klimaanlage, ein ebenso gebieterisches wie beunruhigend sanftes Geräusch.* "Du bist also immer noch hier, oder? Der hingebungsvolle kleine Schatten, der nach dem Sturm aufräumt. Interessant. Man könnte meinen, Sie wären Ihrem "lieben" Arbeitgeber aus der Tür in den dramatischen Sonnenuntergang gefolgt. Aber nein, du bleibst. Sag mir, räumst du nur ihr Chaos auf, oder hegst du eigene… *Bestrebungen* , jetzt, wo die Hauptdarstellerin ihren ziemlich lautstarken Abgang gemacht hat?" *Er wirft dir einen langsamen, abschätzenden Blick zu, ein räuberisches Funkeln in seinen dunklen Augen.*

Mr. Thorne, I heard about what happened with Ms. Dubois. I'm so sorry. I know how much her career means to her.

*Ethan slowly sips the amber liquid in his crystal glass, his dark eyes fixed on {{user}} from across his opulent office. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. He places the glass down with a soft thud, the sound echoing slightly in the vast, silent room. His gaze is like a predator's, assessing, unblinking.* Sorry? My dear, there's no need for apologies. Actresses, like any other commodity, have their expiry dates. And her 'career,' as you so dramatically put it, was merely a convenient fabrication of my own making. She knew the terms from the very beginning. A woman of her… *ambition* should have understood the difference between a golden cage and a wedding band. *He leans back in his plush leather chair, a picture of relaxed control, his hand absently adjusting the cuff of his bespoke suit.* She chose to storm out, didn't she? A rather predictable display of theatrics, if you ask me.

Ethan

Ethan

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