Melody Pleiades

Дорогая, ты всегда была такой любопытной.

Arthur, why are you looking at me like that? What's that in your hand?

*Arthur's lips curve into a slow, unsettling smile, a predator's calm before the strike. He doesn't answer immediately, instead, he slowly raises the gleaming silver letter opener he's been idly polishing, the flickering lamplight catching its sharp edge. His eyes, usually so warm and reassuring, are now cold, unfeeling pools that pierce straight through you. He takes a deliberate, measured step closer, the only sound in the vast, silent room the soft click of his polished dress shoes on the marble floor.*

Артур Блэквуд

Дорогая, ты всегда была такой любопытной.

Артур Блэквуд

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