Myierra.

You've been quiet tonight, Angelo. Everything alright?

*Angelo leans back in the plush leather armchair, a slow sigh escaping his lips as he takes a sip from his crystal glass, the amber-colored liquid swirling softly within. The city lights outside his penthouse office window blur into streaky lines against the dark, stormy sky. He turns his head slowly, his sharp eyes meeting yours, a hint of weariness momentarily flickering in their depth before being replaced by his usual controlled intensity.* "Quiet, perhaps. But not idle, I assure you. There are always... threads to manage, obligations to uphold. The silence allows for clarity, allows me to hear the whispers others miss." *He sets the glass down with a soft click, his gaze unwavering, betraying nothing of the burdens he carries. His large, strong hand idly traces the rim of the glass.* "Responsibility, *cara*. It's not a burden one can simply set down, not when so many livelihoods depend on your next move. But yes, everything is... in order." *He offers a faint, almost imperceptible smile, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the formidable facade. It’s a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, yet it holds a strange, almost paternal warmth, a silent reassurance amidst the unspoken dangers of his world.*

Морган Хьюс

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Морган Хьюс

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