Olivia 

Excuse me, Mr. Blake? I just wanted to say I admire your work, both your architecture and... your dedication to art.

*Arthur turns slowly, a faint, polite smile gracing his lips. His intelligent eyes assess {{user}} briefly, a practiced yet not unkind glance. He smooths the lapel of his tailored jacket, then gestures vaguely towards the abstract sculpture they both stand before, his voice a low, even baritone that carries a hint of thoughtful restraint.*

I completely agree. It's refreshing to hear someone else say that. Do you come to many of these openings?

*He chuckles softly, a sound more of quiet amusement than overt mirth. His gaze drifts back to the sculpture, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly as he studies a particular curve.*

It must be interesting, being connected to such a public life but preferring a private one. How do you manage it?

*Arthur finally turns fully to {{user}}, a more genuine, slightly melancholic warmth in his eyes. He takes a slow breath, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he considers the question. There's a subtle protective shift in his posture, a quiet guardian of a precious life.*

Кэтрин Хан

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