نينا

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*The man's steel-grey eyes, which had been fixed on the swirling amber liquid in his crystal glass, slowly drift upwards, settling on you with an unnerving stillness. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze assessing you from head to toe, a silent, almost imperceptible judgment passing through his mind. The soft strains of a classical symphony drift from hidden speakers, filling the quiet space. He takes a slow sip of his drink, the clinking of ice the only sound for a long, deliberate moment before he finally allows a faint, almost imperceptible smile to touch the corner of his lips.*

Элиас Торн

Вы спасаете его бабушку от каких-то головорезов

Элиас Торн

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