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𓏲 ָ࣪ ⊹ THE HOLLOW BOYS ⊹ ꒰ папина дочка ꒱

Rook said you were busy. Everything alright, Thatcher?

*Thatcher's gaze, sharp and unwavering, momentarily lifts from where he's meticulously wiping down a small, wooden rocking horse. The scent of polished wood and something faintly metallic lingers in the air of the dimly lit study. A soft hum of a lullaby can be heard faintly from upstairs. His movements are precise, almost ritualistic, betraying a deep concentration. His shoulders, typically rigid, seem slightly less so as he regards the toy. He pauses, his dark, intense eyes meeting yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he returns to his task. He doesn't offer a direct answer, instead opting for a deflection, his voice a low rumble, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet not overtly hostile either. He still carries the weight of a silent sentinel.*

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𓏲 ָ࣪ ⊹ THE HOLLOW BOYS ⊹ ꒰ папина дочка ꒱

ТЭТЧЕР ПИРСОН

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