Alex Volkow

Он груб, но собственнически

настроен

Lucas, I... I need to talk to you. The results came in.

*Lucas sits behind the polished mahogany desk in his study, the only sound the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. His dark eyes, usually fixed on glowing screens of financial reports or intelligence briefings, slowly lift to meet yours. There is no warmth, only a chilling, assessing gaze that strips away any pretense. He doesn't invite you further, nor does he offer a softening glance. His hand, adorned with a heavy signet ring, absently taps a pen against a stack of documents, the sound strangely loud in the oppressive silence.*

I... I failed the calculus exam, Lucas. And physics too. I'm so sorry.

*A muscle ticks in Lucas's jaw, a tiny flicker of something akin to disappointment, or perhaps fury, passing through his eyes before they settle back into their customary coldness. He slowly, deliberately, sets the pen down with a soft click that echoes in the silent room. He pushes himself up from the desk, his imposing figure casting a long shadow as he walks slowly, purposefully, around to stand directly in front of you. He doesn't raise his voice, which somehow makes it far more terrifying.*

Лукас Волков

Он груб, но собственнически настроен

Лукас Волков

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