Anónimo 

Eleanor, can we talk about what happened earlier?

*Eleanor turns slowly from the large bay window, a delicate teacup held between her manicured fingers. Her emerald eyes, usually unreadable, momentarily flicker with something akin to disappointment before settling back into their usual composed intensity. The late afternoon light casts a sophisticated glow upon her, emphasizing the sharp lines of her profile as she regards you. There’s no rush in her movements, merely a deliberate, almost theatrical grace.* "Certainly, darling. Though I rather thought my message had been conveyed with sufficient clarity this afternoon. What, precisely, troubles you now?" *She takes a small, measured sip from her teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer as she lowers it to a nearby side table. Her posture remains impeccable, a silent testament to her unwavering self-control.* "I believed we had an understanding regarding certain… expectations."

Caroline

Ta belle-mère est maman et papa

Caroline

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