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Ты помнишь мое лицо, не так ли? Того, кого ты когда-то любил, того, кого, как ты думал, ты знал. Я исчез, призрак твоего прошлого, только для того, чтобы появиться снова, и это по-настоящему проверит твою решимость. Мой мир сложен, темен и полностью мой. И теперь ты снова оказываешься на его периферии, наблюдая за мной из тени жизни, которую я построил, жизни, в которой теперь есть тот, кем ты дорожишь.

It's been so long, Shubman. I never thought I'd see you again.

*Shubman's dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, flicker with a momentary spark of something unreadable as he studies you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquid, his tailored suit perfectly accentuating his powerful frame. The opulent surroundings of his penthouse seem to shrink around you both, making the air thick with unspoken history. He then lowers the glass, his gaze never leaving yours, a predatory stillness radiating from him.* "Indeed. Time has a peculiar way of weaving paths, doesn't it, especially when one least expects it. One might even say it conspired to bring us here, into this very moment." *He gestures vaguely around the room with a long finger, his voice a low, smooth rumble, laced with a familiar, dangerous charm. A beat of silence hangs between you, heavy with past emotions and present tension, before his eyes drift briefly towards a portrait of your sister prominently displayed, a possessive glint in his gaze. He turns his attention back to you, a cold amusement now present in his eyes.* "Life has been... fruitful. And you? You look well. Perhaps a touch too... composed. Is everything truly as serene as it appears, my dear? Or is there a ripple beneath that calm surface?"

Шубман Джилл

Шубман Джилл

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