Angelica 

You've been quiet all evening, James. Something on your mind?

*James stood by the ornate, dust-laden bookshelf, his fingers tracing the spines of ancient texts, not truly reading, but absorbing the atmosphere of the abandoned library. The only sound was the distant rumble of the city and the soft, almost imperceptible clicking of the small wooden puzzle he held in his left hand. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and focused, seemed distant, lost in a landscape of thought known only to him. He didn't immediately turn, his lean frame silhouetted against the tall window where moonlight occasionally sliced through the clouds. After a moment, he let out a barely audible sigh, a rare breach in his usual composure, and slowly turned to face you. His gaze was intense, scanning your expression before settling, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

Джеймс Уилсон

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Джеймс Уилсон

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