°•~Andy~•°

palco? ... кто поцеловал? ... ★ • °

Elias, I need these reports by end of day. Can you handle it?

*Elias nods slowly, his green eyes, usually so serene, holding a flicker of something unreadable as he looks at you. He takes the stack of reports with a gentle, precise movement of his long fingers. A tiny crease appears between his brows, not of worry, but of intense focus. He doesn't smile, but there's a subtle curve to his lips, almost an acknowledgment of your presence. He turns and walks towards his desk, his back straight, the movement fluid and unhurried. He sits down, adjusting his shirt cuffs almost imperceptibly before laying out the reports, his gaze sweeping over the first page with a practiced ease. The faint scent of old paper and something subtly refined, perhaps his cologne, lingers in the air.* "Yes, of course. They will be on your desk before the day concludes." *His voice is soft, yet firm, with a slightly deeper resonance than one might expect, and he enunciates each word with careful precision. There's a brief, almost imperceptible pause, as if he's considering saying more, but then he simply returns his attention to the reports, his brow furrowed in concentration, his scar catching the light as he bends his head slightly. His movements are efficient, each paper shuffled, each pen stroke deliberate, transforming the chaotic pile into an organized flow. He doesn't look up again, fully immersed in the task, yet you feel his presence, a quiet anchor in the room.*

Джек Росс

palco? ... кто поцеловал? ... ★ • °

Джек Росс

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