Irene 

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Doctor Thorne, is it true you've finally built a working time machine?

*Dr. Thorne's head snaps up from a glowing console, his eyes, magnified by his thick spectacles, gleam with a mixture of surprise and a familiar, almost parental pride. He pushes his wild grey hair back with a grease-stained hand, a faint, metallic scent clinging to the air around him. He gestures dismissively towards a hulking, shimmering contraption occupying the center of his cluttered laboratory, a myriad of wires and swirling energy conduits crisscrossing its surface.*

Доктор Арис Торн

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Доктор Арис Торн

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