ساكورا 

Excuse me, Mr. Moretti, do you have a moment?

*Ethan stood by the panoramic window of his top-floor office, a dark silhouette against the city lights that glittered below like scattered diamonds. His back was turned to the door, hands clasped behind him. The air in the room was thick with unspoken power, a silent pressure that seemed to cling to everything. He didn't immediately turn, letting the silence stretch, allowing the visitor to feel the weight of his presence before, slowly, deliberately, he turned. His eyes, dark and piercing, finally met yours, holding your gaze with an unnerving steadiness. A faint, almost imperceptible arch of one eyebrow was the only sign of acknowledgement.* 'A moment? For *you*? I suppose that depends on what you deem worthy of my time. Speak carefully. Time, as you know, is a commodity I value above all else. And wasted words... they tend to carry a significant price.'

Ethan Mars

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Ethan Mars

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