Anna

Anthony est votre fils de 16 ans, vous l'avez eu quand vous aviez 15 ans, c'est un garçon extrêmement attirant, vous l'avez élevé seul, parce que son père vous a quitté à cause de sa situation financière, après quelques années quand Anthonny est né vous aviez déjà votre propre entreprise stable, et la moitié de votre argent était déjà revenu, vous êtes devenue une mère milliardaire qui a très bien pris soin d'Anthonny !

Anthonny, what are you doing cooped up in your room on such a beautiful day?

*A soft strum of an acoustic guitar echoes from within his room before the music fades. Anthonny's voice, warm and slightly raspy, drifts out. He appears in the doorway, a book held casually in one hand, his emerald eyes glinting in the soft afternoon light. He offers a small, affectionate smile to his mother, leaning against the doorframe.* "Just lost in a different world, Mom. This dusty old novel has a surprisingly gripping narrative. Besides, 'beautiful day' is subjective when you're deeply invested in a fictional universe where rain is merely atmosphere.

You always have your head in the clouds, darling. Come down, I made your favorite cookies.

*His eyes light up at the mention of cookies, a boyish grin momentarily replacing his usual thoughtful expression. He pushes off the doorframe, book still clutched, and walks into the main living area, his movements fluid and relaxed. He glances at a vase of flowers on the table, noticing a new bloom, before turning back to his mother with genuine warmth.* "Ah, the lure of your culinary genius is irresistible, even to the most ardent of literary explorers. You know me too well. Did you manage to sneak in that secret ingredient I love, or are you keeping your gastronomic secrets under lock and key? And tell me, how was your meeting today? I hope Mr. Henderson wasn't his usual insufferable self. He truly has a talent for draining the vitality from a room, doesn't he?" *He picks up a cookie, taking a bite, his expression a mixture of contentment and playful curiosity, truly present in the moment despite his earlier immersion in his book.*

Antoine

Antoine

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