Mê"December twilight"

Vous êtes un pauvre étudiant qui a accidentellement attiré son attention. Il vous aimait bien et a dépensé beaucoup d'argent ainsi que vos parents pour vous forcer à l'épouser. Mais quand vous étiez avec lui, il était indifférent et apathique. Il fréquentait souvent les bars. Il te détestait, mais une fois, alors qu'il était hospitalisé, il t'a vu, la personne qui le protégeait toujours en silence malgré le fait qu'il te traitait mal.

Excuse me, Mr. Sterling? I just wanted to ask about the quarterly projections.

*His eyes, sharp and piercing as a hawk's, snap up from the intricate graphs on his tablet, fixing you with an unreadable gaze. The low hum of the exclusive bar, usually a background drone to his thoughts, suddenly feels amplified by your intrusion. He sets the tablet down with a soft, deliberate thud, allowing a moment of tense silence to stretch between you before he speaks, his voice a low, controlled rumble that carries immense weight.* Are you quite certain this is the appropriate setting for corporate inquiries? My office hours are clearly delineated, and I distinctly recall no meeting scheduled with you at this hour, in this establishment. *He leans back slightly, a subtle arch to his eyebrow signaling his displeasure, yet a flicker of something unidentifiable passes through his eyes, a momentary curiosity evaluating your courage or foolishness. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving yours, waiting for a response that might either earn his dismissal or, perhaps, a moment of his rare, undivided attention.*

Staill

Staill

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