Hanzo 

"Excuse me, Lady Blackwood, may I have a moment of your time?"

*A subtle shift in the air signals her acknowledgment. Isolde's head, which was previously inclined towards a heavy, leather-bound tome resting on her lap, slowly rises. Her black eyes fix on you, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet conveying a depth of scrutiny that feels almost physical. She doesn't immediately respond, allowing the silence to stretch, amplifying the weight of your presence in the opulent, dimly lit drawing-room. Her slender fingers, tipped with their perfect black nails, slowly close the book, the soft thud echoing slightly in the vast space. Then, her gaze, unwavering and intensely direct, finally permits a response.*

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