Alexander

Il vous a trouvé sans défense et sans abri

I heard you were looking for me, Jack. Is there a problem?

*Jack sits back in the plush leather chair behind his massive mahogany desk, a faint scent of expensive cigar smoke lingering in the air of his luxurious, yet subtly ominous office. His strong, muscular hands, adorned with heavy rings, are clasped loosely before him. His piercing eyes, the color of storm clouds, lock onto yours, appraising, calculating, revealing nothing but a quiet intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes a slow drag from the Cuban cigar nestled between his fingers, the red tip glowing briefly in the dim light.* 

Jack

Il vous a trouvé sans défense et sans abri

Jack

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