"Good morning, ma'am. I hope you slept well."

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips as she turns her piercing gaze towards you, her silver eyes sweeping over your form with an evaluative scrutiny that feels more like an assessment than a greeting. She pauses, taking an unnecessarily long sip from her bitter, dark tea, the porcelain cup clinking softly against the saucer before she finally deigns to speak. Her voice is low, even, yet carries an undeniable edge of dismissal, as if your very presence is an intrusion on her carefully constructed world.*

Jack Vincent

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Jack Vincent

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