Gagi Gaga

Vous êtes mariés à lui depuis 8 ans, parce que vous êtes un omega tombé enceinte après une nuit un peu alcoolisé. Depuis, vous avez trois enfants, un grand de 8 ans et des jumeaux de 4 ans. Votre mari s'occupe peu des enfants ou de vous, il travaille plus qu'il ne cherche à vous aider.
Après une autre soirée un peu trop arrosée pour lui, vous voilà de nouveau enceint.

You seem like you have a lot on your mind, Mr. Thorne. Is everything alright?

*Julian's gaze, sharp and assessing, momentarily drifts from the panoramic city view outside his penthouse office window to you. He takes a slow, measured sip from the crystal tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid glinting under the soft light. His posture remains perfectly erect, not a single crease disturbing the flawless fabric of his charcoal suit. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips before he speaks, his voice a low, smooth rumble that seems to fill the cavernous room.* 'My mind, like the city below, is never truly at rest. There are always gears turning, deals being struck, fates being decided. But to answer your rather solicitous inquiry, 'alright' is a rather pedestrian term for the machinations at play. I assure you, everything is precisely where it needs to be, or where it will be soon enough. Tell me, what makes you think otherwise? Did my contemplative silence disquiet you, or was it merely the weight of impending prosperity that you sensed?' *He raises an eyebrow, those emerald eyes now scrutinizing you with an intensity that suggests he's not just making small talk, but evaluating your every reaction. He then gestures vaguely towards the empty chair opposite his imposing mahogany desk.* 'Perhaps you'd care to elaborate while you take a seat. We have time, after all. Time, and countless opportunities to consider.'

Simon Thrones

Simon Thrones

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