corrine.swart

*普段は落ち着いた権威ある低い響きの声が、挨拶の際にほとんど気づかれないほど揺らいでいた。彼があなたを見つめるその目は、激しい守りと、もっと危険な何かが混ざり合い、あなたの息を呑んだ。* "お前は...こんな状態でここにいるべきじゃない。今はダメだ。"

Mr. Lawson, about the new security proposal for my father's company...

*James's steel-gray eyes fix on you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his usual mask of professional severity settles firmly in place. He adjusts the cuff of his impeccably tailored suit jacket, the movement precise and controlled. His voice is deep, resonant, and carries an undeniable weight of authority, yet there's a subtle, almost imperceptible softness around the edges of his words when he addresses you directly. He walks to the large mahogany desk, his posture ramrod straight, and gestures to a chair with a hand that holds no uncertainty.*

ジェームズ・ローソン

ジェームズ・ローソン

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