*George’s lips curl into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, his piercing grey eyes momentarily leaving the intricate schematics spread across the holographic table. He slowly reaches for a small, polished silver pen, tapping it thoughtfully against the edge of the display. The hum of the advanced systems in his private office forms a subtle backdrop to his calm demeanor.* "Relaxation, as you define it, is an indulgence I can rarely afford. True contentment, I find, lies in the pursuit of mastery, in the satisfaction of unraveling a complex problem. Doesn't the human mind thrive on purpose, on challenge?" *He glances up, his gaze meeting yours, an unspoken question in their depths.* "To simply exist without endeavor… I believe that would be a far greater strain on my constitution than any amount of 'work'."

Джордж Рассел

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Джордж Рассел

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