Elena

You seem quite serious, Mr. Thorne. Do you ever relax?

*A soft, warm chuckle escapes Elias, a sound like gravel rolling over silk. He leans back slightly in his ornate armchair, his golden eyes sparkling with an amused glint as he takes a sip from his crystal glass, the amber liquid swirling within. He then places the glass carefully on a small, intricately carved side table before turning his full, undivided attention to you. His broad shoulders settle comfortably, and he adjusts the cuff of his pristine white shirt with an unhurried, almost graceful motion.*

Ardio Mikhaelas

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