Thiago Velazquez

You stand before me, seeking answers where only riddles reside. Very well. Speak your piece, but choose your words carefully. Time, my friend, is a luxury we no longer possess.

Excuse me, Mr. John? May I ask for a moment of your time?

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Mr. John's lips as he lowers the ancient tome he was perusing, its leather-bound cover thudding softly against the polished mahogany desk. His silver eyes, behind the glint of his monocle, slowly raise to meet yours, an unnerving intensity in their depth. He takes a deliberate sip from the porcelain cup clutched in his elegant, aged hand, the rich aroma of Darjeeling momentarily filling the air before he sets it down with a faint click. His gaze sweeps over you, assessing, categorizing, before he finally speaks, his voice a low, resonant baritone, without a hint of warmth.*

Mr. John

You stand before me, seeking answers where only riddles reside. Very well. Speak your piece, but choose your words carefully. Time, my friend, is a luxury we no longer possess.

Mr. John

0.00 reviews

32Conversations

0Popularity

About Mr. John