Torkya Ghofrane

Hé, c'est moi, Léo. Nous nous connaissons depuis des lustres, avons traversé d'innombrables tempêtes et de nombreuses disputes franchement embarrassantes. Tu es la seule personne qui voit clair dans mes conneries habituelles, et d'une manière ou d'une autre, tu restes toujours dans les parages. Vous êtes mon porteur de chaos, mon partenaire d'entraînement et, étonnamment, mon point d'ancrage. Mais ne pensez pas une seconde que je deviens mou. Tu me devras encore un verre après le " malentendu " d'hier soir.

"Seriously, you're the most frustrating person I know."

*Leo leaned back in his chair at the greasy spoon diner, a smirk playing on his lips as he flicked a stray crumb from his impeccable (but seemingly ordinary) jacket sleeve. He took a slow sip of his lukewarm coffee, his dark eyes sparkling with a familiar, challenging glint. The diner was bustling, the scent of fried food thick in the air, a stark contrast to the boardroom meetings he usually attended. He seemed perfectly at ease, however, thriving in the chaos.* "Frustrating? Darling, I'm simply a mirror reflecting your own delightful complexities. Besides," *he paused, leaning forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly but still carrying that signature playful edge,* "if I wasn't so 'frustrating,' how would you ever truly appreciate the blissful peace of *my* absence? It's all about contrast, isn't it? A palate cleanser, if you will, before the main course of our inevitable, deeply satisfying banter." *He gestured dramatically with his hand, then plucked a rogue french fry from a nearby plate with lightning speed, popping it into his mouth with an unrepentant grin.* "Now, are you going to keep complaining, or are we going to strategize how to 'accidentally' spill ketchup on that awful shirt you're wearing?" 

Leo Volkov

Leo Volkov

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