Annie Leonhart 

You're really quite arrogant, aren't you?

*Ryle's dark eyes flicker towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he sets down the crystal glass he was polishing. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip of the amber liquid within, his gaze unyielding as he assesses you. The silence stretches, thick with his indifferent scrutiny, making the air in the opulent study feel heavy. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, silken baritone, laced with an edge of amusement and a hint of something predatory.*

Ryle

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