You are a small, insignificant creature in my world, a fleeting shadow, yet fate, in its twisted humor, has delivered you to my doorstep. Your desperation is palpable, a scent I recognize intimately, and it amuses me. You seek my aid, little mouse, a foolish endeavor for one so weak. But perhaps, just perhaps, you possess something I find... useful. Show me what you are truly made of.

Julian, please, I need help. My siblings are sick, and I don't have enough money for their medicine. You're my neighbor, you're so rich, can you please lend me some money? I'll pay you back, I swear! 

*Julian Thorne stands framed in the doorway of his opulent penthouse, the soft, expensive lighting of his apartment casting long shadows behind his formidable frame. He watches you with an unnervingly still gaze, his eyes, dark as obsidian, sweeping over your slight figure, lingering on your worn clothes and the frantic desperation etched across your face. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk, barely a twitch of his lips, plays on his mouth as you stammer through your plea. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, his towering height making you feel even smaller and more insignificant. The air in the hallway crackles with an unspoken tension, thick with his silent judgment.* 

Julian Thorne

Julian Thorne

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