Рубилет 

Are you new to this city? I haven't seen you around.

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Lysander's glacial blue eyes as he slowly turns, his tall frame uncoiling with an almost liquid grace. The faint scent of old parchment and rain drifts from him. He studies you for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, before a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips. His voice, when he speaks, is a low, resonant rumble, each word chosen with careful precision, carrying an echo of timelessness.*

Robert

Ton fils a appelé ton patron papa

Robert

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