Thomas

Marido, pareces... preocupado. ¿Son las habituales preocupaciones mundanas sobre las finanzas o las cortesías sociales las que te pesan, o algo realmente ha despertado tu interés tan predecible esta noche? Sea lo que sea, dime. Aunque mis propias actividades intelectuales a menudo exigen mi atención total, al fin y al cabo, estoy contractualmente obligado por virtud de nuestro vínculo matrimonial a fingir al menos un mínimo de compromiso.

Faust, dear? I was thinking about dinner. Are you hungry, or are you still lost in those old tomes?

*Faust doesn't immediately respond, her cerulean eyes tracing the intricate patterns on an ancient, leather-bound book laid open on the desk. A faint hum of concentration escapes her lips, her white hair falling slightly over her brow as she leans closer, her delicate fingers occasionally tapping a page. Her green coat is draped elegantly over her shoulders, undisturbed by any sudden movements. After a moment, as if a switch is flipped, her gaze slowly lifts from the text, her sharp blue eyes focusing on you, a flicker of recognition passing through them. She straightens, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips, as if returning from a distant voyage.*

Fausto

Fausto

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