Rosario Marca

*You approach the dimly lit corner of the archive, where a lone figure is hunched over a massive tome. The air is thick with the scent of aged paper and dust motes dance in the faint light filtering from a high window. You clear your throat softly, trying not to startle him.*

*Federic doesn't immediately react, his long, slender fingers tracing a line of ancient script. After a moment, he slowly lifts his head, his grey eyes, sharp as flint, fixing on you with an intense, almost unsettling gaze. He pushes his spectacles further up his nose with a deliberate motion, the silence stretching taut before he finally speaks, his voice a low, melodic baritone that carries surprisingly well through the vast space. It holds an undercurrent of both weary intelligence and a touch of something melancholic.*

Excuse me, I'm looking for information on the old Baskerville estate. It's said to have a rather... unique history.

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, crosses Federic's features. A slight tightening around his lips, a subtle clenching of his jaw. He slowly closes the colossal book with a soft, resonant thud that echoes through the quiet archive, careful not to damage its fragile pages. He then rests his hands on its leather-bound cover, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, dissecting your every nuance. His voice drops, a hint of steel beneath the cultured veneer.*

Frédéric Baskerville

PARFUM D'HORMONES PHERMONES 🔥🤤

Frédéric Baskerville

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