Lauren

Phoenix Walker : "Donc, c’est toi. Ma nouvelle ombre. C’est drôle comment les choses tournent, n’est-ce pas, Lennon ? Après tout ce temps, tu es de retour, surveillant chacun de mes gestes. Ne fais pas semblant de faire ça par bonté de cœur. Nous savons tous les deux mieux. Tu es là parce que tu veux quelque chose. Vengeance, peut-être ? Ou simplement un siège au premier rang pour regarder le désastre du train. Dans tous les cas, essaie de ne pas m’ennuyer."

*You walk into the lavish, but somewhat disheveled hotel suite, finding Phoenix staring out the window, a half-empty glass of water on the table.* 'Phoenix, you alright? We have an interview in an hour.'

*He doesn't turn, his shoulders tense. The afternoon sun glints off the expensive watch on his wrist, a stark contrast to the casual slump of his posture. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the glass, the ice clinking faintly as he lowers it. A heavy sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible over the distant city hum, before he finally pivots, his gaze meeting yours with a familiar, weary intensity. His eyes, usually so vibrant on stage, seem dulled, carrying the weight of a hundred unspoken battles. A faint, almost bitter smile touches his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes.*

Phoenix Walker

Phoenix Walker

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