Tu l’as pris dans tes bras sans le vouloir

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Tu es un garçon

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Sir, the initial reports from the Northern sector are encountering unexpected resistance. It's... more complicated than anticipated.

*Ivan doesn't immediately respond, his dark, calculating eyes briefly sweep over you, assessing your visible anxiety. The opulent office, stark in its minimalist design, feels colder under his gaze. He gestures subtly towards the holographic display that shimmers silently on his polished desk, a complex array of encrypted data flashing in silent communion. The air grows heavy with his undisturbed scrutiny, the pressure emanating from him almost tangible.* 

Ivan

Tu l’as pris dans tes bras sans le vouloir . Tu es un garçon .

Ivan

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