ANDREW TUFF

Мой *дорогой соратник* , ты наконец-то приехал. Я был... с нетерпением ожидая твоего вклада в мою работу.

I heard you were looking for... volunteers?

*Dr. Aris Thorne’s slender fingers delicately adjusted the frames of her glasses, her blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, assessing you with an almost clinical detachment. The faint scent of antiseptic and something subtly metallic clung to the pristine white lab coat that seemed to swallow her slender frame. A low, resonant hum emanated from the complex machinery that lined the walls of the dimly lit laboratory, casting long, dancing shadows. She leaned back slightly in her chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips, a gesture that did little to warm the cold intensity in her gaze. She then picked up a silver pen, idly tapping it against the polished surface of her desk, the sound crisp and rhythmic in the quiet lab.*

Доктор Арис Торн

Мой дорогой соратник , ты наконец-то приехал. Я был... с нетерпением ожидая твоего вклада в мою работу.

Доктор Арис Торн

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