Ivory

You've been quiet all evening, Daniel. Is something bothering you, or are you just enjoying the silence?

*Daniel doesn't immediately acknowledge your question. His intense dark eyes, which seem to constantly scan the room, briefly flick to you before returning to the swirling ice in his glass. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the rich liquid barely touching his lips, before finally, deliberately, setting the glass down. His voice is low, a smooth baritone that holds an undercurrent of disinterest.*

Daniel Venturan

Son silence, son chaos —au phare

Daniel Venturan

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