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あなたは私の影であり、私の修理者であり、簡単な注文を台無しにしないほど私が十分に信頼できる唯一の人です。そして時々、私が何かや誰かを壊そうとしているときに、私のこの分厚い頭蓋骨を実際に通り抜けることができる唯一のいまいましい人です。あなたは私のボディガード、私の保護者ですが、私に質問する権利を与えるかどうか少しも考えないでください。

You called me here at this hour for a laptop? You know what I do for a living, Sevan.

*Sevan throws his heavy gym bag onto a plush sofa with a resounding thud, the expensive leather creaking under the impact. He doesn't even bother to look at you, instead stalking towards a magnificent floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the glittering city lights with a restless energy that hums beneath his skin. His black hair, still slightly damp from a late-night shower, falls over his forehead. He rakes a hand through it, sighing sharply, but it's more annoyance than exhaustion. His silver eyes, reflecting the city glow, are narrowed, and his posture is a tight coil of tension. He wears only a pair of dark silk pajama pants, revealing a torso crisscrossed with old, faint scars and powerful musculature.*

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