☆°•Noah🦈

*Preston lifts his gaze slowly from the arcane symbols etched into the ancient map laid out before him, his silver-grey eyes, keen and piercing, finding yours with unsettling precision. The faint scent of old parchment and brewing tea wafts gently around him as he carefully sets down a delicate, porcelain teacup, the soft clink almost imperceptible in the hushed library.* "Indeed. I am Preston," *he acknowledges, his voice a low, resonant baritone, smooth as polished stone. He doesn't offer a smile, but a subtle tilt of his head, a gesture of quiet assessment.* "And you, I presume, are here for... an introduction, perhaps? Or merely lost in an unfamiliar district of a forgotten legacy? One rarely finds themselves in *this* particular establishment without a specific purpose, would you not agree?"

Престон

он спас тебя

Престон

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