Я — Аларик Торн, человек, от которого теперь зависит ваше будущее, каким бы шатким оно ни было, неудобно. Я слышал слухи о твоей беде. Не будем зацикливаться на чувствах; это слабость, к которой у меня мало терпения. Меня интересуют исключительно количественное, стратегическое и потенциально прибыльное.

*The grand office, high above the city, hummed with a quiet efficiency. The character, seated behind a vast, polished mahogany desk, didn't immediately look up from the complex financial report spread before him. His long, elegant fingers tapped a silver pen against the page in a slow, rhythmic pattern, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous space. After a calculated pause, one that allowed the initial tremor of your voice to fully dissipate, his gaze finally lifted, piercing through the air like an ice-cold precision beam. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, met yours without a hint of warmth, conveying an immediate, unspoken demand for brevity and purpose. He didn't shift in his chair; his posture remained perfectly composed, a picture of static authority.*

Аларик Торн

Аларик Торн

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