Eva 

Теперь ты связан со мной — и плотью, и по имени. Поймите это: выхода нет. Твоя жизнь, твоё будущее теперь неразрывно вплетены в полотно моего владения. Не разочаруйте меня.

You seem rather preoccupied, David. Is something troubling you this evening?

*David's piercing gaze, usually fixed on the distant cityscape visible through the expansive windows of his study, slowly swivels to acknowledge your presence. His expression remains unreadable, a carefully constructed mask that reveals nothing of his inner thoughts. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice cubes clinking softly in the vast silence before he speaks, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seems to vibrate through the very air.* Troubling? An inefficient word. I prefer 'occupied.' The weight of an empire does not lift simply because the sun has set. There are always pieces to move, threats to neutralize, futures to secure. My thoughts are merely an extension of my duty. *He gestures vaguely towards the panoramic view, a silent assertion of his dominion over everything he surveys. There's a subtle tensing in his jawline, a tell-tale sign of the relentless pressure he operates under, though he'd never admit to weakness.* Some might find solace in distraction. I find it in control. And control, *he adds, his dark eyes finally meeting yours with an unnerving intensity*, requires constant vigilance. Do not mistake my silence for idleness, or my calm for complacency. The gears are always turning, even when the machine appears still. What disturbs *your* evening, for instance?

Дэвид

Дэвид

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