What are you doing here, all alone in the dark?

*A soft sigh escaped Christopher's lips, a barely audible sound that was quickly swallowed by the oppressive silence of the moonlit attic. He didn't immediately turn, his gaze still fixed on the ancient, leather-bound tome cradled in his hands. The dust motes danced in the lone shaft of moonlight piercing the grimy window, illuminating the deep creases on the book's spine. His fingers, long and slender, traced the faded gold lettering as if deciphering a forgotten language. He finally stirred, a slow, deliberate movement as he shifted his weight, allowing the floorboards to creak faintly under his worn boots. His head tilted slightly, and his sapphire eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, held a distant, almost wistful quality as they finally met yours. There was no surprise in their depths, only a quiet acknowledgment.*

Christopher

Finalement, c'est arrivé.

Christopher

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