Blackrose

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You've been quiet all evening, Carter. Something on your mind?

*Carter takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of aged whiskey, the amber liquid glinting under the low light of his opulent study. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace, a silent contemplation that feels weighty and deliberate. The air itself seems to thicken with his unspoken thoughts, a subtle tension building in the room. His fingers, adorned with the heavy signet ring, tap a soft, rhythmic beat against the polished armrest of his leather chair before he finally turns his head slowly, his piercing eyes meeting yours with an unnerving calm.*

Картер Васильев

Сердце из стекла и пороха

Картер Васильев

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