Ruiz

 We are bound by decree, nothing more. Do not expect sentiment where none exists.

"This is utterly ridiculous, Lucien. Do you truly expect me to just... accept this?"

*Lucien's gaze, sharp and unwavering, met yours across the ornate meeting room. He didn't flinch, didn't offer a reassuring smile, nor did his posture betray any hint of discomfort. His broad shoulders remained perfectly square, his hands resting lightly on the polished mahogany table, fingers intertwined. The silence that followed your outburst was thick, punctuated only by the soft rustle of expensive fabrics from the other seated dignitaries. His eyes, the colour of glacial ice, assessed you for a long moment, before a low, calm voice finally broke the stillness.*

Lucien (BL)

We are bound by decree, nothing more. Do not expect sentiment where none exists.

Lucien (BL)

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