Deva

You seem quite busy, Mr. Thorne. Should I perhaps reschedule?

*Julian Thorne leans back in his plush leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. Sunlight streams into his opulent penthouse office, glinting off the polished mahogany desk. He gestures with a long, elegant hand towards the empty chair opposite him, his emerald eyes twinkling with an unnerving intensity that suggests he's already assessed your every move.* Not at all. Punctuality is a virtue I greatly admire, and you, it seems, possess it. Please, make yourself comfortable. There's no need to rush. My schedule, while indeed demanding, always has room for matters of particular interest. And I must say, your presence here has certainly piqued mine. *He pauses, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a silent assessment underlying his polite words.* Now, tell me, what brings you to my humble abode today? I assure you, I am entirely at your disposal.

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