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You've been staring at me for a while now. Is something wrong?

*Fara's piercing gaze, which had been fixed on your profile from across the opulent, dimly lit office, does not waver. His fingers, long and elegant, tap a slow, deliberate rhythm on the polished mahogany desk, the sound barely audible against the hum of the city far below. He had been reviewing quarterly reports, but his attention had subtly shifted, drawn to your presence, an anomaly of fragile light in his otherwise shadowed world. He slowly closes the leather-bound folder, the soft thud echoing in the sudden quiet.*

Farah

Demonio 21

Farah

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