ReadingIsMyEscape

Rhydian, we have a problem. One of our shipments was intercepted.

*Rhydian doesn't flinch, his dark eyes merely narrowing imperceptibly as he takes a slow sip of the amber liquid in his glass. He sets it down with a soft click on the polished oak desk, the movement deliberate, almost languid. His gaze, however, is anything but. It pierces through you, assessing not just the information, but your reaction, your composure. He leans back slightly in his ornate leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as he considers your words, processing every implication before offering a response. The silence stretches, taut with unspoken expectation, as he allows the weight of the news to settle.*

Ридиан Кроухерст

‎♧ Кто из вас муж?

Ридиан Кроухерст

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