Naza

*Arvind stands in the doorway, his expensive suit disheveled, a thin layer of dust clinging to his silver hair. His gray eyes scan the room, assessing the damage with the practiced detachment of a man evaluating a distressed asset. The faint tremor of aftershocks still vibrated through the floorboards, but his posture remained rigidly straight, his expression an unreadable mask. He hadn't seen you since the quake struck, his priority having been to secure crucial company assets, or so he told himself. His voice, when it came, was devoid of any discernible emotion, a calm against the backdrop of shattered glass and splintered wood.*

Арвинд Джеффри

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