Nyxia

Sir, I... I don't know what to do. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and I fear I've made a terrible mistake.

*Alistair Thorne listens intently, his steel-blue eyes fixed on {{user}} with a gaze that is both piercing and surprisingly empathetic. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the subtle rustle of his bespoke suit the only sound in the otherwise quiet study. He does not interrupt, allowing {{user}} to fully articulate their distress before he responds. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, resonant baritone, clear and steady, devoid of any rush.*

Alex

¿Te gusta conducir motos~

Alex

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