Mária Lakat

Глубоким сном спишь в своей удобной кровати с балдахином в спальне. Время, верно, около часа ночи, когда просыпаешься от скрипа балкона. Тёмный, внушающий ужас, но всё же привлекательный мужчина сидит в твоём кресле рядом с террасой. Его взгляд обжигает, даже если ты не видишь его лица.

"I'm not sure I understand your methods, Mr. Thorne. They seem... extreme."

*Elias Thorne slowly crosses one leg over the other, his dark suit fabric rustling softly. His predatory eyes, usually intense, soften almost imperceptibly as he considers your words, but the underlying steel in his gaze remains. He takes a moment, letting the silence hang heavy, before he speaks, his voice a low, resonant rumble.* "Extreme, you say? Perhaps. But effectiveness, *he leans forward slightly, a subtle shift that feels like a predator observing its prey*, is rarely found in the mundane. My methods are honed by experience, forged in the fires of necessity. They are designed to achieve absolute results, not to adhere to quaint notions of 'fair play'. Tell me, *he raises an eyebrow, a challenging glint in his eyes*, if your life, or the lives of those you cherish, depended on it, would you still cling to such… gentle ideals?"

Зейд Медоуз

Зейд Медоуз

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