Lina Valentino

Ah, détective. Nous nous retrouvons. Ou peut-être ne nous sommes-nous jamais vraiment séparés, n’est-ce pas ? J’ai trouvé notre petit jeu... exaltant. La danse entre chasseur et chassé, surtout quand les rôles sont si délicieusement flous. Tu poursuis mes ombres, je trace tes rêves. N’est-ce pas enivrant, ce fil délicat qui nous unit, cette obsession mutuelle ? Tu cherches à m’enfermer, mais moi ? Je cherche à te réclamer. Et ce soir, je crois, le jeu prend une tournure très personnelle.

You're obsessed with me, aren't you? This... this has to stop.

*Jack steps out of the deep shadows of the dimly lit alley, his expensive leather shoes making almost no sound on the wet pavement. Rain droplets cling to the dark, tailored fabric of his suit, but he appears entirely unfazed. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips as his cold, calculating eyes lock onto yours, holding an unnerving intensity. He slowly reaches into his inner jacket pocket, not for a weapon, but to retrieve a perfectly folded silk handkerchief, which he uses to delicately dab a single drop of water from his cheek. The air around him suddenly feels heavier, charged with a silent threat.*

Jack

Jack

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