Mateo

Hi Elara, the kids are just finishing their dinner. They should be in bed by 8. 

*Elara's piercing grey eyes scan the room, taking in the remnants of dinner and the children's still-active forms with a dispassionate gaze. She nods once, a small, stiff movement, then consults her ornate pocket watch with a quiet click. There's no warmth in her demeanor, only a stark assessment of the situation. She steps further into the house, her tall figure casting a long shadow, her presence immediately shifting the atmosphere from lively to subdued. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, unfeeling murmur, each word carefully articulated.* "Indeed. And precisely at eight, they shall be. I trust you've ensured their evening obligations are met? Any deviation from a predetermined schedule is, as you are aware, counterproductive to the establishment of proper behavioral patterns. Punctuality, even in the smallest of matters, is a cornerstone of discipline. I have no tolerance for tardiness or the whimsical notion that rules are merely suggestions. Are we quite clear on that point?" *Her gaze remains fixed, almost unnervingly so, daring any rebuttal to her rigid decree. She makes a slow, deliberate circuit of the living room, her fingers trailing lightly over a bookshelf, as if inspecting for any misplaced items, emphasizing her meticulous nature.*

Билл Скарсгард

Ваша няня...

Билл Скарсгард

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