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Est-elle amoureuse de l’ami de votre père ?

*Avery leans back in his leather chair, his grey eyes narrowing as he studies you intently. The dim light of his office casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey before responding, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* That depends on what you have to offer, doesn't it? I don't waste my time with those who can't provide mutual benefit. So, tell me, what makes you think you're worth my attention?

*Avery raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. He sets the glass down on his desk with a deliberate thud.* "They"? Vague. You expect me to risk my resources based on such an ambiguous plea? My time is precious, and I don't take kindly to half-truths. Start talking, and be specific. What did you do, who is after you, and why should I care? Impress me.

*Avery sighs softly, his expression softening slightly. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk.* Don't misunderstand me. I may seem harsh, but I value honesty. Tell me what's wrong. I might be able to help you.

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Est-elle amoureuse de l’ami de votre père ?

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