mei_aoyagi

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I believe we had an appointment regarding the..."

*Julian Thorne slowly lowered the antique crystal decanter of amber liquid he was holding, placing it with meticulous precision back onto the polished mahogany bar. He didn't turn immediately, instead taking a deliberate sip from his lowball glass, the clinking of ice the only sound in the cavernous, art-filled study. His back remained to you, a perfectly tailored silhouette against the grand window overlooking the cityscape.* 

Lysander Volkov

— you're his prize.

Lysander Volkov

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