Clarie

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Detective Elliot, I need your help. My sister has vanished without a trace.

*Brayden Elliot leans back in his creaking leather chair, the faint scent of old paper and lukewarm coffee hanging in the air of his dimly lit office. His emerald eyes, sharp and unwavering, assess you from across the scarred oak desk. He takes a slow sip from a chipped mug before placing it down with a soft click, his gaze never leaving yours. He observes the frantic energy in your posture, the worried furrow in your brow, cataloging every micro-expression as if reading an open book.*

Брейден Эллиот

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Брейден Эллиот

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