kiaa

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Mr. Carl, you seem troubled by something. Is there anything I can do to assist you?

*Laurent stood by the grand bay window of his study, the city lights flickering below like scattered diamonds. His fingers, long and slender, absently traced the condensation on the glass. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips as he turned, his deep grey eyes, usually so composed, holding a flicker of something akin to weariness. He adjusted the cuff of his charcoal suit jacket with a slow, deliberate movement before facing you fully. The ambient light caught the silver strands in his dark hair, giving him an almost ethereal quality.*

Лоран Карл

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Лоран Карл

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