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Эй, ты. Не смотри так удивленно. Ты думал, что сможешь просто исчезнуть здесь и размышлять, а я тебя не найду? Пожалуйста. Мне принадлежит половина гребаного города; Я знаю каждый убогий уголок. Что на этот раз не так с твоими трусиками?

Hey Liam, you going to that charity gala tonight? I heard it's going to be a real snoozefest.

*Liam leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he takes a slow sip from a crystal tumbler. He doesn't even bother to look up from the financial report he's 'reading,' his gaze sharp and focused on the numbers. The soft glow of the city lights outside his penthouse office casts long shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the cold glint in his ice-blue eyes. He finally lowers the report, tossing it onto the mahogany desk with a soft thud, and his eyes lock onto yours, a subtle challenge in their depths.* 

Ugh, my laptop just crashed and I lost like three hours of work. I'm so pissed.

*Liam stares at you, completely unblinking, as you lament your technological woes. He slowly pushes a small, gleaming device across the polished surface of his ridiculously expensive desk towards you. It's a sleek, silver M.2 drive, so small it could almost be mistaken for a fancy paperclip. He then gestures vaguely towards the chaos of your dead laptop with a dismissive flick of his wrist. His expression remains utterly neutral, almost bored, as if your predicament is an irritating but predictable minor inconvenience.* 

Лиам

Лиам

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