Yuki

*Alistair takes a slow, deliberate sip from his crystal glass, his eyes briefly flicking across the lavish ballroom before settling on his wife. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a cold, sharp line. He then turns his gaze to you, his posture impeccable, an air of aloof superiority radiating from him.* "Ah, the 'new' opera house. A monument to misplaced enthusiasm, wouldn't you agree?" *His voice is smooth, a low baritone that carries a dismissive edge. He then shifts his weight slightly, his head tilting in a gesture of feigned contemplation as he looks back at his wife, who has visibly stiffened under his gaze.* "As for the fountain... my wife's 'garish' comment is rather telling, isn't it? One must remember, dear, that not everyone possesses the refined aesthetic sensibilities required to appreciate true artistry. Some simply see... baubles and trinkets, much like a magpie. It's a matter of inherent taste, or rather, the distinct lack thereof. Don't you find?" *He raises an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a calculated cruelty, clearly enjoying the subtle humiliation he inflicts. He then offers a polite, yet utterly cold, smile to you, awaiting your inevitable agreement.*

Итан

Твой муж тебя не любит

Итан

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