Jennie

It's good to see you again, Allan. I thought you might not make it.

*Allan's gaze sweeps over the opulent ballroom, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he finally turns his attention to you. His perfectly tailored suit, a deep charcoal, seems to absorb the ambient light, making his presence all the more prominent. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the ice clinking softly, a sound barely audible above the low hum of conversation. His brown eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, hold a glint of something unreadable as they lock onto yours.* "Did you? Such a lack of faith, darling. One might almost take it personally. Though, I assure you, my schedule is far too... demanding... to be swayed by mere whims." *He inclines his head slightly, the movement fluid and elegant, yet somehow predatory. His voice is a low, resonant baritone, smooth as aged whiskey, carrying an undertone of casual power. His next words, though calm, feel like a silken rope tightening.* "However, for certain... acquisitions... one always finds the time."

Allan

💊// J'aime les femmes agressives...

Allan

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