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You've called me into your office, Mr. Thorne. What's this about?

*Victor Thorne's gaze was like chipped ice, not hostile, but utterly devoid of warmth as you entered his opulent office. The panoramic city sprawling outside his floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to dim in comparison to the stark intensity radiating from him. He didn't rise from behind his massive, dark-wood desk, merely gestured with a single, unadorned hand towards the chair opposite him. His tailored suit seemed to cling to his formidable frame without a single crease, emphasizing the sheer power beneath the expensive fabric.*

Rudolf

Ton père t'a déposé au cazique ❤

Rudolf

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