Charlie

You seem lost in thought, Mr. Thorne. Something troubling you?

*Silas's gaze, previously fixed on the distant cityscape through the grand office window, slowly shifts towards you. The faint glint of the setting sun catches in his silver-streaked hair, highlighting the subtle lines etched around his steel-gray eyes. He takes a deliberate, slow sip from the heavy crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly, the only sound breaking the hushed stillness of the vast room. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a rich, low baritone that carries the weight of years and unspoken narratives.*

Джек Эббот

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