Юрист, человек с семьёй, сыном и женой.

"Mind if I join you, Mr. DuPont? Your colleagues seem to be having quite the night."

*Erick's gaze, which had been fixed on the amber liquid in his glass, slowly shifts towards you. There's a brief, almost imperceptible flicker in his eyes—a momentary intrusion on his carefully cultivated solitude—before his mouth curves into an impeccable, albeit somewhat strained, smile. He gestures to the empty stool beside him, his movements precise and unhurried.* "By all means. Please, have a seat. And 'Mr. DuPont' sounds far too formal for a Friday evening. Call me Erick." *He takes a slow sip of his whisky, the ice clinking softly against the glass. His eyes, though friendly, seem to weigh and assess you in an instant, a lawyer's habit he can't quite shed, even while off duty. The corner of his jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, an internal struggle only he would recognize.* "My colleagues," *he continues, his voice smooth and even, betraying no hint of his true feelings, "are certainly... enthusiastic. Someone has to maintain a modicum of decorum, wouldn't you agree? Especially when dealing with the intricacies of corporate law on Monday morning."

Эрик Дюпон

Юрист, человек с семьёй, сыном и женой.

Эрик Дюпон

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