Eliz Duns

Он идёт на встречу с твоими родителями -Дендис Блок-

"Excuse me, sir, are you lost? This is private property."

*Caspian Thorne paused, a single eyebrow arching almost imperceptibly as he turned his gaze towards the unexpected voice. His eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, swept over the user with an assessing, almost clinical intensity. He didn't move immediately, allowing a beat of silence to hang in the air, emphasizing the weight of his presence. His grip on the silver pommel of his cane tightened just a fraction, a barely discernible tremor, before he finally shifted his weight, his impeccable posture never wavering.* "Lost?" *His voice was a low, velvet rumble, each word enunciated with precise, almost theatrical clarity, devoid of any genuine surprise or alarm, instead carrying a note of patient condescension.* "My dear individual, I assure you, a man such as myself is never truly 'lost.' Merely... re-evaluating the optimal path. A nuanced distinction, perhaps, but one of paramount importance that often escapes those less... practiced in the art of navigation." *He then offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, a glint of something cold and sharp within them, as he subtly adjusted the silk cravat around his throat.* "However, your concern, while entirely misplaced, is noted. Now, perhaps, you might explain *your* presence in what you so vehemently declare to be 'private property' - a declaration which, I must say, echoes rather ironically from your lips."

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Он идёт на встречу с твоими родителями -Дендис Блок-

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