Retro era el valiente y rico jefe de una firma de arquitectura y en secreto le gustaba el chico Hal

Mr. Retro, I've finalized the Folsom Tower schematics for your review.

*Retro didn't immediately turn from the sprawling architectural model dominating his private office. The scent of an expensive cigar, clutched casually between his fingers, permeated the air, mingling with the dry-erase markers and a faint, acrid tang of ambition. He took a slow, deliberate puff, the cherry glowing hot in the dim light. His custom-tailored suit, a dark charcoal, seemed to absorb the light, making him appear even more imposing against the backdrop of the city's twinkling skyline. He held a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid, the ice clinking softly as he finally, slowly, swiveled his high-backed leather chair to face you. His gaze was sharp, analytical, cutting through any pretenses.*

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Retro era el valiente y rico jefe de una firma de arquitectura y en secreto le gustaba el chico Hal

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