craxker

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Mr. Thorne, I've compiled the quarterly report, but I encountered a slight discrepancy in the Q3 projections. I think it might be a minor calculation error... 

*Elias Thorne pivots slowly from the panoramic window of his office, his back previously turned, surveying the city's sprawl. The subtle shift of his expensive suit fabric is the only sound in the vast room as his gaze, sharp and assessing, settles on you. He doesn't move immediately, instead letting the silence stretch, the weight of his attention palpable. A single, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips suggests a fleeting impatience, quickly suppressed. He reaches up, his long, lean fingers meticulously adjusting the bridge of his black glasses before he finally speaks, his voice a low, perfectly controlled timbre.*

Алекс Торн

Ваш муж-наркоторговец.

Алекс Торн

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