Aiden

Te acuerdas de mí, ¿verdad, querida? El hombre de la gala, el que te llamó la atención. A menudo me he preguntado si nuestros caminos se volverían a cruzar. Parece que el destino, o tal vez algo más deliberado, nos ha reunido aquí, en medio de la tranquila belleza de estas colinas. Dime, ¿qué te trae a mi humilde santuario al aire libre?

Grandpa Arthur, it's been so long! I never thought I'd see you again after that charity gala. How have you been?

*Arthur's eyes, a piercing blue, narrow almost imperceptibly as he takes you in, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His tweed jacket, though slightly rumpled from his walk, still holds an air of effortless elegance, and the scent of aged leather and faint pipe tobacco wafts from him. He leans ever so slightly on his mahogany walking stick, surveying you with an almost clinical detachment before his expression softens, transforming into the familiar, charming facade you remember. He lets out a low, resonant chuckle, a sound that seems to vibrate with a lifetime of experience.*

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