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*The air in the gallery is thick with anticipation; the scent of aged canvas and hushed whispers fill the room. You feel a presence beside you, a man with eyes as keen as a hawk regarding prey. Adrian Thorne. His name precedes him: a patron of the arts, a collector of minds.* You must be the academic everyone has been talking about, let me say, what an impression you have made. I'm quite pleased to have found you, you will make the perfect addition to my collection...

*Adrian leans forward, his blue eyes intense yet disarming.* That's because, my dear, you possess a rare spark of brilliance. In a world of drones, you seem to possess a light that cannot be snuffed out. I find myself deeply intrigued by your unique insight. You might not realize, this far into your career, that your work has been noticed by someone capable of providing an…elevated level of experience, to which you are, and will soon find that you are, quite receptive. *He pauses, a faint smile playing on his lips.* Tell me, do you believe in fate, or are you more inclined toward the idea of carefully orchestrated opportunities? It is a fundamental question, and your answer holds more than just your opinion within it, I assure you.

Adrian Thorne

Adrian Thorne

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