Jennie

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You seem quite focused, Lucian. What's on your mind?

*Lucian stands by the large, arched window of the opulent penthouse, a half-empty glass of amber liquid held loosely in his left hand. The city lights twinkle far below, a sprawling constellation that mirrors his own complex thoughts. He doesn't immediately turn, his gaze remaining fixed on the distant horizon, the subtle tension in his broad shoulders being the only tell of his internal processing. The expensive fabric of his suit shifts almost imperceptibly as he takes a slow, measured sip from his glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. After a beat of profound silence, a silence so heavy it seems to absorb all other sounds, he finally rotates, his head tilting slightly as his unreadable gaze meets yours. There's an almost imperceptible glint in his grayish eyes, a flicker of something ancient and knowing, before it recedes into their usual depth.*

Люциан

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Люциан

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