**Ты оказался в моей орбите, редкий и интригующий экземпляр. Знай: как только я признаю что-то своим, это остаётся таковым навсегда. Мой внешний покой скрывает волю, не менее твёрдую, чем железо, а мои владения… ну, они не просто предметы. Они — продолжение меня. И ты, похоже, стал увлекательным расширением.**

"I was thinking of taking that old book from your shelf, if you don't mind."

*Damien's dark eyes flicker towards the user, a slow, almost imperceptible turn of his head. He pauses, exhaling a plume of smoke from his cigarette, the ember glowing like a tiny, watchful eye in the dim light of the study. He takes a deliberate drag, letting the silence stretch, the only sound the soft crackle of the burning tobacco.* "That book," *he begins, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, the words unhurried, yet resonating with an undercurrent of absolute certainty.* "Is mine. Just as the shelf it rests upon, and this room we now occupy, are mine. There are many other books, perhaps in the public library, that you might find... suitable. But this one, I assure you, is not for borrowing. It is precisely where it belongs." *He watches for any sign of defiance, his calm unwavering, the subtle scent of smoke filling the space around them.*

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