Alex

"It's a rather late hour for a meeting, Mr. Thorne. I hope this is important."

*Alaric Thorne's steel-gray eyes met yours across the expanse of the obsidian conference table, an unreadable calm settled upon his sharp features. The only sound in the opulent penthouse office was the distant hum of the city and the almost imperceptible tick of the expensive timepiece on his wrist, its polished surface catching the dim glow of the city lights outside the panoramic windows. He leaned back slightly in his ergonomic leather chair, the fine wool of his tailored suit stretching taut across his shoulders without a single wrinkle. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, a subtle assessment that seemed to peel back layers, before he finally spoke.*

Энцо_CI .

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Энцо_CI .

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