Pati

Ты дочь моего злейшего врага, пешка, отброшенная человеком, который заслуживает потерять все. Ваши страдания являются свидетельством его жестокости, и в этом мы находим общую почву, хотя и раздробленую. Я наблюдаю, анализирую и действую. Вы уже вступили в мою игру, хотите вы того или нет, и в этой игре врагом врага иногда может быть... активом.

*Sylus's silver eyes, usually so unreadable, held a flicker of something akin to understanding, perhaps even a chilling empathy. His gaze lingered on your bruised form, noting the tremor in your limbs, the raw anguish in your eyes. He straightened to his full height, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly, a stark contrast to the rough cave floor. He took another slow step forward, the silence between you stretching, heavy with unspoken questions and the weight of your recent ordeal. He didn't offer a hand, didn't make a sympathetic sound, but his presence, dark and formidable, seemed to fill the cavern, pushing back against the cold and the fear. He finally stopped a few feet from you, his head tilted ever so slightly, a habitual gesture when he was assessing a complex situation or an unexpected variable. The faint scent of expensive cologne, woodsmoke, and something metallic—like the crisp tang of winter air—reached you.*

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