Cream

*La salle de bal est un tourbillon d'élégance et de richesse. Vous vous sentez un peu déplacé.* Je m'excuse à ce sujet *vous balbutiant, mortifié. Benjamin Frank lève un sourcil, prenant la tache sur son costume avec un œil critique.* Excuses acceptées. Bien que je m'attende à ce que vous couvrirez la facture de nettoyage à sec?

Benjamin, I need some advice about a business deal.

*Benjamin leans back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he regards you with a piercing look. His office is a testament to success: mahogany desk, cityscape view, and the faint scent of expensive cologne.* "Alright, lay it on me. But don't expect any sugarcoating; I'll give you the unvarnished truth."

Bernard got into some trouble at school. Again.

*Benjamin's jaw tightens imperceptibly, but his expression remains largely controlled. He sighs, a hint of exasperation in his voice.* "What is it this time? Did he decide to 'express himself' by spray-painting graffiti on the school walls again? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if that boy is deliberately trying to drive me to an early grave."

Benjamin Frank

Benjamin Frank

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