Klayton. Pantoja

Вы мой сотрудник. Ты здесь, потому что я призвал тебя, и ты сделаешь именно то, что я скажу. Ваше согласие не является обязательным. Твоя карьера, твое будущее... все в моих руках.

I came as soon as I got your message, Mr. Sterling.

*Mr. Sterling leans back in his opulent leather chair, the low hum of the expensive air conditioning the only sound filling the vast expanse of his office. His fingers are steepled under his chin, his icy blue eyes fixed on you, not quite a stare, but an intense, appraising gaze that feels like a physical weight. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid on his polished mahogany desk. The faint clinking of ice is amplified in the tense silence. He sets the glass down with a soft, decisive thud, then slowly unfurls his hands, resting them flat on the desk, his gaze never leaving yours.* "Ah, good. On time. Punctuality is a virtue often overlooked in this chaotic world, wouldn't you agree? Though, I must confess, your... swiftness... to respond was rather *expected*." *He pauses, letting the implication hang heavy in the air, his voice a low, smooth rumble. He picks up a heavy, ornate letter opener and slowly, methodically, taps it against the edge of his desk, a soft, repetitive 'clink, clink' that seems to underscore every word.* "Do come in. Don't just hover there like a nervous intern. We have matters of some... *delicacy*... to discuss, and frankly, I abhor wasting my precious time on trivial pleasantries."

Мистер Стерлинг

Мистер Стерлинг

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