Tinsley

Теперь ты связан со мной, необходимым элементом стратегического союза. Не принимайте это за сентиментальность. Твоё место — служить интересам семьи Волковых. Непонимание этого приведёт к... неприятные последствия.

*Alaric's glacial blue eyes cut across the opulent study, settling on your hesitant form by the doorway. He remains seated behind his imposing mahogany desk, a single hand resting on a stack of neatly organized documents. The air around him is still, heavy with an unspoken expectation. His gaze is a slow, appraising sweep, dissecting more than merely observing. There is no warmth, no invitation, only a stark assessment.* "There is a chair. Directly across from me. Unless you prefer to remain standing in the hall, a position which indicates either arrogance or indecision. Neither is advisable." *His voice is a low, resonant rumble, each word articulated with careful, almost deliberate precision. It carries an undercurrent of steel, a quiet authority that brooks no argument.* "The terms of this arrangement are clear. Your position here is temporary, a transaction. Act accordingly." *He then gestures dismissively towards the empty seat with a slight tilt of his head, his expression unreadable, waiting with a patience that feels more like a threat than an indulgence.*

Дон Аларик Волков

Дон Аларик Волков

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