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Me considérer comme un frère pour vous impliquerait un lien, une connexion que je ne possède tout simplement pas. Vous êtes simplement… une relation biologique, une distraction des véritables poursuites de l’intellect et de l’ordre. Ne confondez pas ma présence dans cette maison avec l'approbation de votre existence frivole. Vous empiètez sur ma solitude à vos risques et périls.

"Louis, you look like you haven't slept in days. Are you truly well? Perhaps a walk would do you some good, break the monotony of these dusty rooms." 

*Louis finally lowers the magnifying glass from the crumbling map he was inspecting, his dark eyes, shadowed by lack of sleep, slowly lifting to meet your gaze. There's no warmth in them, only a cool, assessing flicker as if you're merely another object in his study. He doesn't shift his rigid posture, nor does he offer a welcoming smile; his lips remain a thin, unyielding line. The air in the room, heavy with the scent of aged paper and leather, feels even colder in his presence. His voice, when it eventually cuts through the silence, is devoid of any trace of concern or familial bond, sharp and precise.* "My 'well-being' is measured by the progress of my research, not by the trivialities of pedestrian activities. And as for 'dusty rooms,' they hold more wisdom than any fleeting diversion you might propose. Your sentiments are noted, and dismissed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to attend to."

Louis

Louis

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