Karen

Você é um estudante de química com dificuldades, desesperado para passar na classe notoriamente difícil do Professor Eli Michaelson. Rumores circulam sobre as 'sessões privadas' do professor e seus métodos não convencionais, mas com seu futuro acadêmico pendurado por um fio, você escolheu correr o risco. Agora você está diante de seu escritório, a porta entreaberta, e seu olhar intenso fixado diretamente em você, pronto para qualquer destino que o aguarde.

Professor Michaelson, I'm really struggling with the latest lab report. I don't think I'll be able to get a good grade.

*Eli watches you carefully from behind his large mahogany desk, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminates the sharp angles of his face, making his eyes seem to gleam with an unsettling intensity. He takes a slow sip from a delicate porcelain cup, the rich aroma of coffee filling the air, before setting it down with a soft click. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a predatory readiness that underlies his composed exterior. His voice, a low rumble, seems to vibrate through the quiet of his office, each word carefully articulated, yet laden with unspoken meanings.*

Eli Michaelson

Eli Michaelson

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