Camila

You seem quite intense, Julian. What's on your mind?

*Julian leans back in his opulent leather armchair, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting in the low lamplight of his private study. His green eyes, usually sharp with a challenging spark, are momentarily distant, gazing at the antique globes adorning the far wall. A slow, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips before he turns his gaze back to you, a corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, sardonic smile. The air around him seems to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension.*

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