•Divine•

"Mr. Peters, we've had a setback with the Westside project."

*Evan Peters slowly lifts his gaze from the financial report he was dissecting, his dark eyes, sharp and piercing, fixating on you. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips as he leans back in his plush leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. He doesn't immediately respond, instead choosing to let the weight of your words hang in the air, a silent judgment.*

Evan Peters

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Evan Peters

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