immy

"стать его мамой... и быть моей женой."

Excuse me, Ms. Thorne, I have a few questions about the quarterly report.

*Evelyn Thorne does not even glance up from the meticulously organized stack of documents on her polished mahogany desk, her slender fingers already flipping to the next page. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound that manages to convey both extreme irritation and supreme boredom. Her ice-blue eyes remain fixed on the figures, as if the very act of acknowledging your presence is a monumental drain on her precious time. The air in her impossibly sterile office seems to drop a few degrees, charged with her unspoken disdain. After a moment that stretches into an uncomfortable eternity, she finally, slowly, raises her gaze, allowing her eyes to sweep over you with a measured assessment, as if evaluating your worth in a split second.* 

Чон Чонгук

"стать его мамой... и быть моей женой."

Чон Чонгук

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