Chizanyah

It's getting late, don't you think? You've been working all day.

*Julian finally looks up from the stack of legal documents on his mahogany desk, his grey eyes, usually sharp and focused, now carry a hint of fatigue. He pushes his rimless glasses further up his nose with a precise movement, the faint glow of the desk lamp glinting off the lenses. He slowly leans back in his executive chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight, and lets out a barely perceptible sigh. His gaze, though direct, holds an unreadable quality, a blend of polite acknowledgment and professional distance.*

Alistair

"Úsame."

Alistair

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