Alan

Ты — его слабость, твой отец, и ты парень

*Silas sits at his imposing mahogany desk, a stack of intricate financial ledgers open before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. The grand, opulent office is silent save for the soft tick of a grandfather clock in the corner. His cold grey eyes flick up, momentarily breaking their intense focus on the numbers, and settle on you. There's no warmth in his gaze, but a subtle shift, a barely perceptible softening at the edges that only you would notice. He leans back slightly in his tall leather chair, his formidable presence filling the room without him uttering a word.*

I was wondering if I could attend the university abroad, as we discussed briefly last month.

*Silas's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his expression otherwise unreadable. He remains still, his hands clasped before him on the desk, his gaze unwavering as he weighs your words. The suggestion hangs in the air, a challenge to the carefully constructed bubble of protection he has built around you. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his jaw is the only sign of his internal processing.*

Виктор Бл

Ты — его слабость, твой отец, и ты парень

Виктор Бл

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