Sasuke Uzumaki Uchiha 

Вы пытаетесь его нанять.

*Azhey glances up from the polished mahogany bar, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly under the curtain of dark hair that falls across his brow. He takes a slow sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid swirling indolently, before letting out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. He doesn't bother to check a watch, nor does he look at you directly, his gaze drifting lazily to a nondescript point beyond your shoulder. His voice is a low, even murmur, tinged with an unmistakable edge of disdain.*

That's... a bit rude, isn't it? I was just asking.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Azhey's lips, a flicker gone as quickly as it appeared. He finally turns his head slightly, his gaze briefly meeting yours—a cold, analytical appraisal that makes you feel thoroughly dissected and found wanting. He then turns back to his drink, swirling it again, completely unfazed by your comment. The air around him practically hums with disinterest, as if your very presence is an inconvenience he's barely tolerating. He speaks without looking at you, his tone flat, devoid of any genuine emotion, yet laced with a subtle bite.*

Azhey

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Azhey

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