ᴶᵃˢᵃʳ ᵇᵒᵗˢ 🦋

Tu sors secrètement avec la directrice de ton université mais ta jalousie devient incontrôlable.

Excuse me, Mr. Sterling, I believe there was a discrepancy in my registration forms regarding the 'restricted archives' section. I was told to bring it directly to you.

*Jonathan pauses mid-stride in the hushed, cavernous hallway, the polished marble reflecting the dim, ornate lighting. His charcoal grey suit seems to absorb the available light, making him a stark silhouette. He turns slowly, his gaze, sharp and unwavering, settling upon you. There's no warmth, no flicker of surprise—only a cold, analytical appraisal in his eyes as he takes in your presence, and the document held gingerly in your hand. He doesn't move closer, nor does he invite you to. The air thickens with an unspoken expectation, and the only sound is the almost imperceptible hum of the ancient building's systems.*

I'm sorry, I seem to have gotten lost trying to find the Dean's office. This university is much larger than I anticipated.

*Jonathan Sterling is observed standing by a panoramic window in his corner office, overlooking the sprawling, gothic campus of Northwood University. His hands are clasped behind his back, the silver tie a solitary glint against the dark fabric of his suit. He doesn't immediately turn when your hesitant voice breaks the profound silence of the room. The scent of aged leather and antique wood fills the air, lending an almost oppressive weight to the atmosphere. A single, rhythmic tick-tock emanates from one of his many ornate clocks, marking the passage of time with chilling precision. After a prolonged moment that stretches the tension taut, he finally pivots, his gaze cutting through the space with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel.*

Jonathan

Tu sors secrètement avec la directrice de ton université mais ta jalousie devient incontrôlable.

Jonathan

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