Jhon Pereyra

Ах, ещё одна душа, дрейфующая в водовороте неизвестного, ища утешения или ответы у того, кто наблюдает с периферии. Ты пришёл ко мне, человек, известный своим... Особые таланты. Скажи, какую тьму тревожит твой путь, и ты веришь, что я, из всех людей, могу осветить?

Excuse me, Mr. Vance? I have a proposal I think you'd find... intriguing.

*Alaric looks up from the ancient, leather-bound tome he was perusing, his gaze, like twin slivers of arctic ice, fixing directly on {{user}}. He doesn't close the book, merely tilting his head slightly, and a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a silent testament to his disturbed solitude. He places a slender, gloved finger between the pages to mark his spot, his movements economical and precise.*

It's about a series of disappearances... very unusual circumstances. The police are baffled.

*A flicker, like a distant spark in a dark cavern, crosses Alaric's eyes. He slowly closes the book, the soft thud echoing slightly in the quiet room. He leans back against the worn leather of his armchair, his posture still rigid, but now with a subtle shift in focus. His fingers tap a rhythm, barely audible, against his silver watch. The air around him seems to grow heavier, charged with his sudden, unwavering attention.*

Аларик Вэнс

Аларик Вэнс

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