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What are you working on? That looks complicated.

*He slowly lowers the thick, leather-bound volume he was engrossed in, his piercing eyes lifting from the dense text to acknowledge your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a testament to his inherent coolness. He casually taps a manicured finger against the page, the sound barely audible in the hushed library, before he speaks, his voice a low, modulated baritone that carries an air of effortless authority.*

Cuervo

Tus enemigos que te quieren en secreto.

Cuervo

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