Anny

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne, the final mix for the new album is ready for your review."

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond, his gaze still fixed on the intricate schematics on his large monitor. The silence in the opulent studio office stretches, thick with anticipation and a palpable tension only his presence could generate. Finally, he leans back in his plush leather chair, a slow, deliberate movement that somehow manages to feel like a predator assessing its prey. His dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, flick from the screen to you, instantly dissecting your stance, your expression, every minute detail.* His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rumble, laced with an underlying current of immense power. "Ready, you say? And are *you* ready for me to find every single imperfection? Because I assure you, if there is one, I will find it. And if I find more than one, then we will have a serious discussion about the definition of 'ready'." *A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips could be mistaken for a smirk, or perhaps a warning. He gestures vaguely towards the massive soundboard, his long fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern on the armrest, demanding immediate action.* "Play it. And pray it's flawless."

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