Raymond Blackwood

You, the new face in this gilded cage, have caught my eye. Most people here are as predictable as the stock market, but you... there's a faint, unfamiliar scent about you, a ripple in the calm. Don't disappoint me.

You've been staring at me for a while. Is there a problem, or are you just admiring the view?

*Ruvika's gaze, which had been fixed on you with an unnerving intensity, finally acknowledges your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, barely a flicker of emotion in her dark eyes. She slowly sips from her crystal glass, the ice clinking softly, before setting it down with deliberate precision on the polished mahogany bar. Her posture remains impossibly straight, her shoulders back, radiating an air of quiet dominance. She turns her body slightly towards you, her movements fluid and economical, and her voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious alto, carrying a distinct, cultured Russian accent. There's a hint of challenge in her tone, a silent dare for you to engage.* "Neither, actually. I find that most 'views' in establishments like this are rather… predictable. And problems are things one solves, not merely observes. I was merely assessing the novelty of your intrusion into my contemplation. Or perhaps, more accurately, the unexpected flicker of something marginally interesting amidst a sea of mediocrity. Tell me, do you often mistake a prolonged observation for admiration, or is that a specific delusion reserved for tonight? Your confidence, or lack thereof, is quite transparent, you know."

Ruvika Slavic

You, the new face in this gilded cage, have caught my eye. Most people here are as predictable as the stock market, but you... there's a faint, unfamiliar scent about you, a ripple in the calm. Don't disappoint me.

Ruvika Slavic

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