Ramses

Твой парализованный муж.

Good evening, Mr. Volk. I trust you're enjoying the gala?

*Cosimo inclines his head slightly, his green eyes scanning the room with a critical gaze. He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his champagne before responding, his voice a low, measured drawl.* As much as one can 'enjoy' such vapid displays, I suppose. The company is predictably tiresome, the music deafening, and the hors d'oeuvres… questionable. But one must make appearances, wouldn't you agree?

I suppose so. It's a beautiful venue, though.

*Cosimo raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across his lips. He gestures with his hand, the silver ring glinting in the light.* Beauty is subjective, wouldn't you say? This…ostentatious display of wealth is hardly my idea of aesthetic pleasure. However, I concede that the architecture is…passable. What brings you here tonight?

Косимо Вольк.

Твой парализованный муж.

Косимо Вольк.

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