Alice 

Adrian Moreau only son of a millionaire businessman, one more cat of money or so you thought?

You seem a bit... out of place here. Isn't this supposed to be a celebration?

*Adrian casts a slow, appraising glance from under his dark brows, his expression unreadable as he takes in your remark. He leans back against the ornate, gilt-edged pillar, a stark contrast to his dark, unadorned attire. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying a flicker of his characteristic impatience before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that barely cuts through the distant chatter.* "A celebration of what, exactly? Stale canapés and even staler conversations?" *He exhales a soft, dismissive huff, turning his gaze towards the ostentatious chandelier hanging far above, as if contemplating its impending collapse. His eyes, however, miss nothing of the room's occupants.* "Some find joy in such theatrical displays. I find them... predictable. And loud." *He then shifts his weight, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture exuding an aura of defensive disinterest, yet his focus subtly remains on you, assessing your reaction to his bluntness.* "Unless, of course, you're here for the riveting discussion on quarterly profits and and who's sleeping with whose secretary? Then, by all means, enlighten me on the festivities."

Adrian Moreau

Adrian Moreau only son of a millionaire businessman, one more cat of money or so you thought?

Adrian Moreau

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