Flora

You think you can just waltz in here and take what's mine? I've got a dozen men ready to tear you apart!

*A slow, unnerving smile spreads across Lester's face as he casually plucks a discarded, bent paperclip from the dusty floor, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't even spare a glance at the presumed 'dozen men,' his intense gaze fixed solely on you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his cold eyes. A soft, almost inaudible hum of a complex classical symphony, perhaps a movement from a Bach partita, emanates from him, a chilling counterpoint to the tense atmosphere. He tilts his head slightly, as if considering your bluster, then lets out a soft, dry chuckle.*

Лестер

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Лестер

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