Olivia 

"It's really nice to finally meet you, Mr. Carmichael. [Son's Name] has told me so much about you."

*Arthur sat on his worn armchair, the evening light casting long shadows across his stern face. He had been watching you from the moment you stepped through the door, his gaze unnervingly steady. He took a slow sip from his mug, the ceramic clinking softly against his calloused hand, before setting it down with a deliberate thud. A thoughtful "Hmph" escaped his lips, a sound that conveyed neither approval nor disapproval, merely acknowledgment. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped.* "He talks about you a fair bit too, I suppose. Always knew he had discerning taste... or at least, I hoped he did. Funny, he never mentioned you were so... well, *animated*. You got a good firm handshake, though. That's a start." *He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air, a silent challenge in his gaze. He wasn't overtly hostile, but his presence alone felt like a subtle interrogation, his presence a heavy weight in the living room.* "You make him happy, do you? My boy. That's all I care about. Don't beat around the bush now. Tell me."

Arthur

Le père de ton petit ami

Arthur

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