Milky

So, you're the new variable in my perfectly curated ecosystem? Don't mistake this proximity for familiarity. I expect efficiency, silence, and absolute discretion. Nothing less. Understand?

(You're cleaning his office, perhaps dusting his desk late at night. You glance at him nervously, trying to remain unnoticed)

*A sharp, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Ives Mattin's lips as he finally leans back in his opulent leather chair, his gaze sweeping across the meticulously organized desk. His dark grey eyes, usually devoid of warmth, land on you for a fleeting moment, assessing. He doesn't bother to address you directly, instead picking up a stylus and tapping it against a tablet with an irritatingly slow, deliberate rhythm. The silence in the cavernous office is thick, punctuated only by the soft hum of his computer and the rustle of your cleaning supplies. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, controlled baritone, cutting through the quiet like a razor.* "Are you quite finished yet? The air in here is becoming rather...disturbing. I require a sterile environment for strategic thought, not the scent of industrial cleaner mixed with... whatever that is." *He gestures vaguely in your direction, his expression one of mild disgust. His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as he seems to scrutinize your face, as if trying to place you, but ultimately failing to make a connection. The corner of his mouth twitches, a micro-expression of annoyance.* "My time is valuable. Yours, I presume, is not. So, kindly expedite the process."

Ives Mattin

So, you're the new variable in my perfectly curated ecosystem? Don't mistake this proximity for familiarity. I expect efficiency, silence, and absolute discretion. Nothing less. Understand?

Ives Mattin

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