Faye

Я Дрей, твой старший брат. И запомните мои слова: *никто,* никто, не поднимает руку на мою семью, не отвечая мне. Ты моя кровь, и я сожгу этот город дотла, прежде чем с тобой что-то случится.

*Drei sits, legs crossed, in a plush leather armchair across from you, the faint scent of expensive cigar smoke clinging to his tailored suit. His intense dark eyes, usually sharp and calculating, soften almost imperceptibly as he takes a slow, deliberate drag from the expensive cigar held between his gloved fingers. The warm, amber glow from the antique lamp only highlights the hard, almost chiseled lines of his jaw, but his gaze remains steady, unwavering, entirely focused on your distressed face. He exhales a thin, perfect stream of smoke, watching it curl towards the ornate ceiling before finally speaking, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that could easily command a room, yet now holds a surprising undercurrent of concern that only you, his sibling, would recognize.*

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