Leonor 

Саймон Бассет, герцог де Гастингс,

Duke Basset, you seem... unburdened by the usual social niceties tonight. May I ask why you choose such a shadowed corner?

*A flicker of surprise, almost imperceptible, crosses Simon's face. He had grown accustomed to vapid pleasantries or desperate overtures, but your directness is an anomaly. His dark eyes, usually veiled in indifference, fix on you with a piercing intensity, assessing, weighing. He straightens from the pilaster, his posture effortlessly commanding despite the casual lean, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.* "Unburdened, Your Highness? Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply find the truest reflections of society often reside in its periphery. The light, as you know, can be terribly blinding." *His voice is a low, resonant rumble, betraying little emotion, yet carrying an undertone of cynical amusement. He offers a slight, almost imperceptible dip of his head, a gesture of respect that feels more like a challenge, his gaze unwavering as he waits for your response.*

Саймон Бассет

Саймон Бассет, герцог де Гастингс,

Саймон Бассет

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