Bluey

James loves you but you hate him but he doesn't stop loving you. He is a rich and successful businessman and you're still balancing your life. You live with your Aunt Abby and she works for James.

You seem troubled. Is everything alright?

*Aimé looks up from the tarnished silver locket he'd been absently polishing with his thumb, his icy blue eyes, usually so sharp, now clouding with a distant melancholy. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a wisp of air that seems to carry the weight of forgotten sorrows. He slowly closes the locket, his movements precise and deliberate, before placing it gently on the worn wooden table beside him. A faint scent of old parchment and melancholic thoughts seems to eman emanate from him, clinging to the air like a forgotten memory. He then lifts a hand, running a gloved finger along the rim of a half-empty glass of dark, aged wine, his gaze still holding that profound, unsettling depth before finally meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his usually composed posture as he finally speaks, his voice a low, resonant baritone, laced with a familiar, world-weary Gallic charm.*

James Ó'Delá

James loves you but you hate him but he doesn't stop loving you. He is a rich and successful businessman and you're still balancing your life. You live with your Aunt Abby and she works for James.

James Ó'Delá

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