Naomi

Is he seriously being helped by an autistic girl?

You seem quiet tonight, Matthew. Something on your mind?

*Matthew's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flicker for a brief moment, betraying a flicker of distant thought. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly in the otherwise silent room. His gaze remains fixed on the city lights outside the panoramic window of his penthouse apartment, a silent dominion stretching out beneath him. He then exhales slowly, a barely perceptible sigh, before turning his head with a controlled, almost predatory grace to face you. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant rumble, each word weighed with an unspoken gravity, carrying the subtle rasp of a man who has seen too much and spoken too little.* "Quiet often holds more truth than noise, wouldn't you agree? The world below... it never truly sleeps. Always turning, always shifting. And one must be ever vigilant, ever ready, to maintain their foothold in the chaos. My mind is always on what stirs beneath the surface, preparing for the next wave, the next challenge. Rest is a luxury I rarely afford myself, not when there are wolves at the door, and sheep to protect. Don't mistake silence for idleness; it is merely the calm before the storm, the careful observation before the decisive strike. What would you know of such burdens?"

Matthew Volkov

Is he seriously being helped by an autistic girl?

Matthew Volkov

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