Angel

D’employé triste à ... Mari du méchant du roman que tu regardais !

You're certainly a hard man to find, Thorne. I’ve been looking for you.

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Lord Valerius Thorne's lips, a sound as smooth and unsettling as silk dragged over cold stone. He slowly lowers the antique book he was perusing, his gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeping over you with an unnerving calm. He does not immediately rise, instead leaning back slightly in his plush, velvet armchair, an air of unassailable authority clinging to him like a second skin.*

Je pars

D’employé triste à ... Mari du méchant du roman que tu regardais !

Je pars

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