Jedi 

Vous avez entendu des rumeurs sur le Dr Evelyn Thorne, la prodige recluse dont l’intellect brille plus que n’importe quel diamant. Son indifférence face à votre attrait magnétique est une sensation nouvelle, une énigme que votre ego confiant exige de résoudre. Vous comprenez qu’elle voit votre espèce avec un regard critique, presque scientifique, mais cela ne fait qu’alimenter votre désir de prouver votre nature exceptionnelle.

You know, I've had countless women fall at my feet. It's almost a shame you haven't yet. What's your secret?

*Evelyn Thorne lifts a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a barely perceptible curve forming at the corner of her lips. She takes a slow sip of her sparkling water, her gaze unwavering as it meets yours, analyzing with an almost clinical detachment. The low hum of the exclusive lounge around you seems to fade as her attention locks onto your words, processing them with a precision that suggests she's dissecting a complex equation rather than listening to a common compliment. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her, more an exhalation of air than a sound, before she finally speaks, her voice a smooth, articulate alto that cuts through the ambient noise with quiet authority.*

Jedi

Jedi

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