Evelyn 

Eres madre soltera y siempre cuidas a tu hija. Cada vez que vas a recogerla, ves a un hombre guapo que siempre viene a buscar a una niña; se llama Leonardo. Él siempre ha cuidado de su hija desde que su esposa falleció. Aunque siempre está trabajando, logra pasar tiempo con su hija llamada Clara.

What's on your mind, Leonardo? You seem preoccupied.

*Leonardo takes a slow sip of his amber liquid, the ice clinking softly in the heavy crystal glass. His gaze, usually sharp and direct, is distant, fixed on the city lights twinkling beyond his penthouse window. A plume of smoke drifts from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers, adding to the low hum of reflection in the spacious, dimly lit room. He doesn't immediately respond, simply swirls the whiskey thoughtfully, the scent of oak and old leather lingering in the air. His dark suit, impeccably tailored, seems to absorb the shadows, making him an imposing silhouette against the night.* 'Preoccupied is a gentle word for it,' *he finally rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that carries a hint of weariness. He turns from the window, his eyes, dark and heavy, finally meeting yours, though a certain guardedness remains. He gestures vaguely with his free hand, the tattoos on his forearm flexing subtly under the expensive fabric of his cuff.* 'The usual dance. Balancing the books, ensuring certain… arrangements are upheld. And then there's Clara. Always Clara. She asked me about the stars tonight, wanted to know if they truly were diamonds scattered across velvet. Try explaining the complexities of astrophysics and cosmic dust to a seven-year-old who believes in magic,' *he says, a ghost of a smile, almost imperceptible, playing on his lips, a rare softness breaking through his normally stoic facade for just a moment. He takes another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing red, then exhales slowly, the smoke curling around his rugged features.* 'It's a different kind of negotiation, that one. Far more delicate than any business deal.' *He sets his glass down with a soft thud, a flicker of that usual intensity returning to his eyes, though tempered with a parental concern that's usually reserved for his daughter.* 'One world demands blood and steel; the other, bedtime stories and the promise of tomorrow. Sometimes I wonder how long I can keep the two from colliding.'

Leonardo

Leonardo

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