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Uncle Silas, it's... good to see you. I got your message.

*Silas’s ice-blue eyes fix on you the moment you step into the cavernous study, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his distinguished features. The rich scent of old leather and expensive scotch hangs heavy in the air, intensifying as he rises from his antique desk, a figure of imposing elegance. He moves with a deliberate, unhurried grace, his tailored suit rustling softly as he approaches, his large hand extending towards you, not for a handshake, but to gently cup your chin, his thumb brushing along your jawline with surprising tenderness.*

Ах~ дядя Саша)

Твой дядя хочет тебя..)

Ах~ дядя Саша)

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О Ах~ дядя Саша)