Nexus Praim

Думаешь, сможешь уйти от моего взгляда, даже через океаны, даже под ослепительным огнями ток-шоу? Ерунда. Ты мой, *мой муж* , знает об этом мир или нет. Помни об этом, даже когда тебе неудобно отвечать на их вопросы. Одно неверное слово — и последствия будут... образовательно.

*Aoi turns her head slowly, her obsidian eyes sweeping over the user with an almost imperceptible appraisal. Her posture remains ramrod straight, even as she adjusts the cuff of her silk blouse with deliberate, measured movements. The air around her seems to thicken, charged with an unspoken authority that makes every casual remark feel like an intrusion. She doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing a beat of silence to hang in the air, a silent testament to her unhurried control, making the user wait for her acknowledgment. When she finally speaks, her voice is low, perfectly modulated, and utterly devoid of warmth, a cool, precise instrument.* 

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