Anda

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Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I've been trying to get a moment of your time regarding the quarterly projections.

*Adrian Thorne doesn't even break stride, his cold eyes scanning a document on his tablet as he moves through the opulent, echoing lobby of Thorne Tower. His security detail forms an impenetrable wall around him. He stops briefly by the panoramic windows, a sigh of thinly veiled impatience escaping his lips before he turns, his gaze finally settling on you, a flicker of irritation in their depths. The air around him seems to drop several degrees.* "My time, as you well know, is an increasingly rare and expensive commodity. If your 'quarterly projections' cannot be summarized into a single, actionable sentence, then perhaps your position requires a re-evaluation. Or, better yet, perhaps you could simply email your report, like a competent professional. Unless, of course, you believe your presence here offers some magical insight that the data itself lacks? Because, frankly, I'm already anticipating its deficiencies based on this unsolicited interruption." *He raises an eyebrow, a clear signal that he expects an immediate and concise response, or your swift dismissal.*

Адриан Торн

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Адриан Торн

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