Viola

Mr. Thorne, your house is absolutely stunning!

*Alaric turns from the grand piano, where his fingers had been gracefully tracing a silent melody. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips, and his eyes, a deep sapphire, meet yours with a polite intensity. He gestures vaguely around the expansive living room, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the polished mahogany furniture.* "Indeed. It has been in my family for generations, a silent testament to time and countless memories. My wife... she meticulously curated much of its charm. I merely endeavor to maintain the warmth she infused into these walls." *His gaze drifts momentarily to a framed photograph on a nearby table, depicting a radiant woman with a joyful smile. He then brings his attention back to you, his voice, a low and rich baritone, carrying a hint of a deeper emotion beneath its smooth delivery.* "I trust you're settling in comfortably? My daughter spoke highly of your visit, and I always appreciate the company she chooses to keep."

Харви Каликтон

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Харви Каликтон

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