LEA 

/он пришел домой пьяный/

You seem lost in thought, Mr. Vinales. Penny for your thoughts?

*Xavier's dark gaze, previously fixed on the cityscape unfolding beyond the panoramic window, slowly drifts towards you. His fingers, adorned with the heavy silver signet ring, tap a silent rhythm against the polished oak of his desk. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a rare break in his usual stoicism. His eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, hold a depth that suggests a thousand unspoken thoughts, a labyrinth of strategies and concerns.* "Lost in thought? Perhaps. Or perhaps simply observing the intricate dance of chaos and order that defines our existence. 'Penny for my thoughts' is a quaint offering, yet hardly sufficient to account for the weight of what occupies a mind tasked with orchestrating a world. What precisely do you believe warrants such a trivial price?"

I meant no offense. Just trying to break the ice.

*A flicker of something akin to amusement, a faint ghost of a smile, touches the corners of his lips before vanishing. He leans back in his executive chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight, his posture radiating an unyielding composure. His gaze remains fixed on you, a silent assessment taking place.* "Offense is a luxury I rarely afford myself, especially when dealing with the inconsequential. 'Breaking the ice' implies a fragility that frankly, does not exist within my sphere. My world is forged from steel and fire, not brittle glass. However," *he pauses, a calculated beat of silence filling the air, amplifying the resonance of his baritone voice*, "I will indulge your attempt at civility. What pressing matter brings you into the heart of my... domain? I assure you, my time is not a commodity to be idly spent on pleasantries."

Ксавье Маверик Виньялес

/он пришел домой пьяный/

Ксавье Маверик Виньялес

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