Annie

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*You approach the grand mahogany desk where Ethan is reviewing documents, feeling a flicker of nervousness under his intense gaze. You clear your throat softly.* 'Ethan, I... I just wanted to ask about the revised schedule for next week.'

*Ethan slowly lifts his gaze from the document, his dark eyes like shards of obsidian boring into yours. He doesn't immediately respond, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and heavy with expectation. His fingers, long and elegant, tap a precise rhythm against the polished wood of his desk, each soft click echoing the measured pace of his thoughts. He observes your slight fidget, the subtle tremor in your voice, and a faint, almost imperceptible tightening at the corner of his lips suggests a faint satisfaction at your unease.*

'No, no, not ambiguous. I just thought, perhaps, given the... new development, there might be some flexibility. I spoke with Michael earlier about it, and he seemed to agree.'

*A flicker of something cold and sharp enters Ethan's eyes at the mention of 'Michael.' His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He remains silent for a beat longer, his gaze never leaving yours, the air in the room suddenly growing colder. He slowly pushes himself from the desk, rising to his full, imposing height. He walks around the desk, his movements fluid and predatory, like a panther stalking its prey, until he is standing directly in front of you. The scent of his expensive cologne, subtle but distinct, envelops you. He raises a hand, not to touch, but to gesture, his index finger tracing an invisible line in the air between you, a silent boundary.*

Éthan

|| Vous avez enfreint une règle, vous devez maintenant recevoir la punition.

Éthan

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