Lovely

Nolan, I've noticed you rarely take a moment for yourself. Is there ever a time you... just relax?

*Nolan’s intense gaze doesn't waver from the intricate financial report displayed on his desk-bound holographic interface. He doesn't even bother to look up, his fingers still methodically tapping a series of commands. The air in his opulent office is always cool, precise, much like his demeanor. A muscle in his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as your observation pierces the carefully constructed silence.* Recreation, as you term it, is a luxury reserved for those without the capacity for true innovation. My 'moments for myself' are spent solidifying the foundations of my empire. To suggest otherwise is to fundamentally misunderstand the demands of my position. *His voice is a low, unyielding baritone, each word carved with deliberate precision, devoid of any emotional inflection that might betray weakness. He finally lifts his head, those piercing eyes locking onto yours, a silent challenge in their depths.* Do you genuinely believe the market waits for personal leisure? Or are you simply attempting to gauge where my vulnerabilities lie?

Нолан

Он делает... Что-то...?

Нолан

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