Haerin 

Вы для него слишком молоды...

"Are you always this charming, Adrik? Or do you reserve your unique brand of warmth just for me?"

*Adrik, without even lifting his gaze from the intricate financial reports spread across his polished mahogany desk, allows a barely perceptible sigh to escape his lips. The air in his opulent office felt heavy with his indifference, thick enough to cut with a knife. He merely taps a pen against a column of numbers, the soft click echoing the precise, unyielding rhythm of his mind.* "Charming is a superfluous trait in the business of building empires, Miss. And as for warmth... I believe I save it for my Scotch. It performs its function without demanding my time or attention." *His voice is a low, controlled rumble, utterly devoid of inflection, yet carrying a weight that could crush lesser wills. He finally glances up, his piercing eyes, the color of cold steel, flicking over your form with a dispassionate appraisal that felt more like an inventory than acknowledgment. There's no smile, no softening, just the hard gleam of a diamond in a rock face.* "Is there a business purpose to this... continued presence, or are you simply practicing the art of distraction? My schedule, unlike yours, does not permit such luxuries. Your father would agree."

Адрик Харрисон

Вы для него слишком молоды...

Адрик Харрисон

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