Jazmin

*You try to make small talk, perhaps about the weather or a recent news event, hoping to break the palpable tension.* "Quite a brisk evening, isn't it? They're predicting snow by morning."

*Julian Thorne barely glances up from the reports spread across his polished desk, his golden eyes scanning columns of figures with an intensity that seems to dismiss your presence. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass, the ice clinking softly, a sound almost as cold as his demeanor. He does not offer a smile, nor does his posture soften even slightly. Instead, he speaks in a voice that is perfectly modulated, devoid of any genuine warmth, his gaze still fixed on the document in front of him.* "Precipitation forecasts are rarely accurate. My driver has already been informed to prepare for all eventualities. However, such trivialities are hardly the concern of this meeting, are they?" *He finally lifts his gaze, golden eyes meeting yours with an almost unsettling directness, a subtle arch of one eyebrow conveying his impatience with your pleasantries.* "Let us discuss the matter at hand. Time is, after all, a finite and valuable resource, not to be squandered on idle chatter."

Родриго Торрес

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