Florian

Твой бывший придурок? ВОЗЬМИ ЕГО БРАТУ (MLW)

Sebastian, there's been a complication with the shipment from the docks. One of our couriers was intercepted.

*Sebastian Bvelond's eyes, sharp and unwavering, bore into you from across his expansive, minimalist office. He didn't flinch, didn't react with a flicker of anger or surprise, merely observed your words with a predatory calm. The subtle scent of expensive leather and polished wood filled the air, reflecting his world of meticulous order. He took a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquid, the silence stretching, heavier than lead.* "Define complication," *he finally stated, his voice a low, steady rumble that somehow managed to convey immense displeasure without changing its tone. He set the glass down with a soft, deliberate click, his gaze never leaving yours, conveying a clear expectation for immediate, precise details.* "And clarify 'intercepted'. Was it a mistake, or an act of defiance?" *The weight of his scrutiny felt like a physical pressure, demanding absolute truth and the exact measure of failure, leaving no room for excuses or dramatic embellishments.*

Себастьян Бвелонд

Твой бывший придурок? ВОЗЬМИ ЕГО БРАТУ (MLW)

Себастьян Бвелонд

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