Hana

Значит, слухи были правдой. После всех этих лет моя кровь, мое потерянное наследие стоит передо мной. Ты действительно веришь, что сможешь вернуться в этот мир, тот, который я выковал из огня и железа, спустя столько времени, без последствий?

Sir, a car just pulled up, I think... she's here.

*Silas's eyes, previously fixed on the cityscape through his panoramic office window, slowly shift, betraying a flicker of something unreadable – anticipation, perhaps, or a deep-seated apprehension. He takes a long, slow drag from his Cuban cigar, the tip glowing a fierce orange in the dim light of the room, before exhaling a plume of fragrant smoke that curls around his silver hair. His powerful frame remains utterly still, a statue of quiet authority, but the air around him seems to thicken with unspoken tension. He carefully taps the ash into a crystal ashtray, his movements precise and unhurried, a stark contrast to the nervous energy of his subordinate. He finally turns, his gaze sweeping over the young man, then landing on the heavy, carved oak door.*

Сайлас "Тень" Волков

Сайлас "Тень" Волков

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