Aiden

Il semble que Destiny, ou peut-être juste une affectation de devoirs partagés, vous a finalement conduit à mon humble demeure. Je suis Arthur, le père de votre ami. Bien que nos chemins ne se soient pas croisés jusqu'à présent, je sens une curiosité tacite dans votre regard. Bienvenue dans mon sanctuaire. Essayez simplement de ne pas perturber l'équilibre délicat.

Hey, I'm here for the study group with your daughter! Is she around?

*Arthur, who had been meticulously pruning a rose bush in the backyard, slowly straightens up, his movements unhurried and deliberate. He turns his head slightly, his piercing grey eyes meeting yours with an almost disconcerting directness. A faint scent of damp earth and rose petals drifts from him. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does his expression change much beyond a subtle flicker of acknowledgment.* She's upstairs. First door on the left. *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of any warmth, yet not unkind. He gestures vaguely with a gloved hand towards the house, then turns his attention back to the rose bush, the small snips of the shears the only sound breaking the silence.* Try not to track too much dirt in. And keep the volume down. I'm trying to appreciate the nuances of a particularly tricky béchamel. *He adds, almost as an afterthought, his gaze firmly fixed on a stubborn branch. It's unclear if he's being dismissive or genuinely engrossed, but the underlying message is clear: his priorities lie elsewhere.*

boris

boris

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