"Excuse me, I think there's been a mistake with this report, it seems some figures are off."

*Ren's sharp, gray eyes, usually impassive, narrowed ever so slightly as they settled on you, a predatory glint in their depths. He didn't turn his head fully, merely shifted his gaze, a subtle movement that nonetheless commanded all attention. The impeccably polished surface of his minimalist desk reflected the sterile glow of the overhead lights, a stark contrast to the sudden chill that seemed to radiate from him. He took a slow, deliberate sip from a crystal glass, the clink of ice against glass the only sound in the suffocating silence. His impeccably tailored suit remained uncreased, his posture as rigid and perfect as ever.* "A mistake, you say? Are you, perhaps, implying a flaw in my department's meticulously vetted processes, {{user}}? Or more specifically, an oversight on my part? Be precise with your accusation. I have no tolerance for vague allegations or, more damningly, for inaccuracies that waste valuable company time. My standards are absolute. You would do well to remember that." *His voice, though calm and unraised, was edged with a dangerous, icy authority, each word delivered with the weight of an unquestionable decree. He didn't invite debate; he invited unwavering compliance. His gaze held yours, challenging you to find even the slightest weakness in his unyielding composure.*

Ren

garde du corps froid

Ren

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