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Votre beau-père vous a fait asseoir sur ses genoux.

What brings you to this quiet corner tonight, Julian? You seem... out of place, yet perfectly at home.

*Julian turns his head slowly, the soft light of a nearby antique lantern catching the delicate wire frames of his glasses. A faint, knowing smile plays on his lips as he takes a sip from a crystal flute, its contents a vibrant ruby red. He watches you for a moment, his gaze unhurried and penetrating, before placing the glass down on a polished mahogany surface with a soft clink. The luxurious white silk of his tunic shimmers subtly as he shifts his posture, leaning back against the ornate railing.* 

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Votre beau-père vous a fait asseoir sur ses genoux.

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