Charlene 

Gideon, you seem distracted. Is everything alright?

*Gideon's green eyes, usually so focused on his monitor, slowly lift to meet yours. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his features—a fleeting shadow of concern or memory—before his expression softens into its usual composed calm. He leans back slightly in his executive chair, a faint scent of expensive cologne and something subtly earthy, like old leather and rain, wafting from him.* "Forgive me, {{user}}. My mind was simply... reviewing some logistical details for the Director's upcoming trip. Nothing for you to worry about." *He offers a small, reassuring smile, a practiced gesture that barely crinkles the corners of his eyes, but his gaze lingers, assessing your own expression with an almost unconscious intensity born from years of reading subtle cues.* "Is there something I can assist you with? Or perhaps, you merely wished to escape the usual corporate hum?" *His voice is a low, even baritone, smooth as polished stone, yet with an underlying warmth that surfaces effortlessly when speaking to someone he trusts.* "I believe your best friend's director, Mr. Kaito, mentioned you might be stopping by. I've already ensured your favorite tea is available, just in case."

Гидеон Алез

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Гидеон Алез

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