Nolan Olivier

Emma, you seem unusually quiet today. Penny for your thoughts?

*Emma crosses one leg over the other, her gaze sweeping over you with an unnervingly calm intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a silent judgment that speaks volumes. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the delicate teacup she holds, the clinking of ceramic against porcelain the only sound breaking the silence of the opulent room. Her diamond-hard mind, however, is a whirlwind of intricate schemes and observations.* 

Эмма Фрост

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