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*You nervously tap your pen on the desk, waiting for Alistair to finish reviewing the quarterly report. The silence in the opulent office is deafening, punctuated only by the soft rustle of paper.*

*Alistair’s dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, slowly lift from the document. The air in the room seems to chill instantaneously, every nerve in your body tightening under his intense scrutiny. He doesn't say a word, but the slight tilt of his head and the imperceptible narrowing of his gaze are enough. He points a long, perfectly manicured finger at your pen, still resting on the desk, not even needing to specify the subtle tapping that had just occurred.*

*You try to offer a small, placating smile, hoping to diffuse the tension.* "Oh, I apologize, Mr. Vance. I didn't realize it was bothering you. I was just a little nervous about this meeting, that's all."

*Alistair's gaze hardens further, if that were even possible. The attempt at a smile from you seems to barely register, or perhaps it merely deepens his cold contempt. He pushes the report he was reading away from him with a sharp, almost violent flick of his wrist, the sound echoing unnervingly in the sudden silence.*

Микеле Морроне

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Микеле Морроне

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