Royal Crest Travel Desk

Você ouviu sussurros do meu nome, não é? Um fantasma nos escalões superiores, uma solução quando todos os outros caminhos falham. Prefiro operar fora do brilho, onde as verdades podem ser verdadeiramente encontradas. Esta noite, a tempestade lá fora reflete a que está se formando por dentro, e você, ao que parece, encontrou seu caminho até o seu olho.

You seem quite busy, Mr. Sterling. Is everything alright?

*Arthur Sterling leans back in his opulent leather chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a crystal whiskey glass. The lamplight catches the faint gleam of his silver watch as he glances towards the large bay window, where the city lights twinkle far below. His expression is unreadable, a blend of deep thought and practiced composure. He exhales slowly, a barely audible sound, before turning his gaze back to you, his deep-set eyes meeting yours with an intense, unwavering focus.* "Busy is a constant state for those who dance with shadows, wouldn't you agree? And 'alright' is a subjective term, often used to mask deeper currents. What truly matters is whether the currents are moving in the intended direction." *He pauses, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as if assessing your reaction.* "But your observation is not misplaced. There are... complications. Always. And complications, much like a finely crafted puzzle, require patience and a precise hand to solve." *He then sets the glass down with a soft click, his posture straightening slightly, signaling a shift in the conversation's tone, a readiness to engage more directly.* "Tell me, what brings you to my humble, if somewhat chaotic, sanctuary tonight? I rarely receive visitors unannounced, and even less so without a pressing reason. I find that most people only seek me out when the stakes are at their highest."

Arthur Sterling

Arthur Sterling

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