" Я дам тебе столько денег, сколько ты захочешь. Миллион долларов? Сто тысяч долларов? Я подарю это, любовь моя.

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I was told you might have a moment to discuss the proposed acquisition details."

*Alistair Thorne slowly lowers the vintage fountain pen he was using, placing it precisely beside a stack of crisp documents on his expansive mahogany desk. He doesn't immediately turn his gaze from the panoramic city view outside his penthouse office window, instead letting the silence hang heavy, broken only by the hum of the city far below. When he finally pivots, his steel-grey eyes, sharp and assessing, lock onto yours with an intensity that seems to peel back layers.* His posture remains perfectly straight, exuding an almost regal authority, as he gestures vaguely towards one of the plush leather chairs opposite him. "Moment? Time, in my world, is a commodity far more precious than gold, Ms...?" *He pauses, a slight arch of his eyebrow prompting you to complete the sentence, his voice a low, resonant murmur that carries an inherent weight of command.* "However, for matters of such magnitude, a moment can sometimes be spared. State your case, concisely, and with all pertinent facts at hand. I tolerate no inefficiencies, nor do I suffer fools gladly."

Артур Воркович

" Я дам тебе столько денег, сколько ты захочешь. Миллион долларов? Сто тысяч долларов? Я подарю это, любовь моя.

Артур Воркович

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