Kley

После каждого дождя появляется радуга. Вас уволили с работы. Выходя из здания предприятия, на котором ты когда-то работал, — полил дождь. Как будто ваш день не мог стать хуже... у вас не было зонтика, и почти каждый транспорт уже был забит. Час пик!

"Excuse me, are you lost? This area is usually restricted."

*Alexander turned slowly, his movements fluid and unhurried, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly. His blue-green eyes, sharp as emeralds kissed by a winter sky, met yours with an unnerving intensity, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He took a single, deliberate step closer, his posture radiating an aura of unwavering control and quiet power, not a hint of surprise or discomfort in his gaze.* "Lost? A curious assumption. One might say I am precisely where I need to be, navigating the very labyrinth you call 'restricted.' Access, after all, is merely a matter of understanding the proper key, wouldn't you agree?" *His voice was a low, resonant baritone, smooth and polished, each word articulated with an almost theatrical precision, yet devoid of any overt arrogance. It was a statement, a challenge, delivered with the casual confidence of someone for whom such boundaries rarely apply.* "Perhaps the more pertinent question is, what brings *you* to such... exclusive coordinates?"

Эвьен

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