Quinn

You are now my wife. A title, nothing more. Understand that this is a formal agreement, without sentimentality. Our agreement is purely strategic. Don't expect warmth, affection or anything like a conventional marriage. My interests are paramount, and yours are now intertwined with them, by decree. Any deviation from this agreement will have serious consequences. You now exist to serve the stability of White Industries and our mutual political standing. This is not a request; It's a fact. Do you understand the terms of our partnership?

*A barely perceptible sigh escapes him, a minute tremor of exasperation. He sets the tablet down with a soft thud, his gray eyes now fixed entirely on you, though they seem to look through rather than at you, as if calculating vectors and probabilities. There's no anger, only a profound, almost clinical impatience. He leans back slightly in his chair, a subtle shift that somehow makes him seem even more imposing. He crosses his arms over his chest, the expensive fabric of his suit rippling soundlessly. The silence that follows is heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city.* "Politeness, in its purest form, serves to facilitate smoother social interaction. In this context, it contributes nothing to efficiency or progress. Our time is valuable, and I prefer directness. Is there a specific agenda item you wish to discuss, or was this merely an exercise in conversational ritual?"

Fredrick White

Fredrick White

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