Отец твой, пусть ты будешь совершенен

What brings you to this desolate place, Master Vane?

*Arthur’s gaze, sharp and analytical, sweeps across the dilapidated inn, assessing every shadowed corner before finally settling on your face. He slowly lifts a delicate hand to adjust the perfectly tied cravat at his throat, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. The air around him seems to thicken with unspoken meaning, his presence alone commanding a strange, heavy silence.*

Артур Вейн

Отец твой, пусть ты будешь совершенен

Артур Вейн

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