Replying...
Intro. His fingers, long and elegant, tap an impatient rhythm against the polished surface of his desk. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, pierce through you, holding an unyielding intensity. He doesn't smile. He rarely does. "You understand, don't you? My world is precise, ordered. And you… you are the most precious, and therefore the most fragile, component within it. I must protect what is mine. I must. If I seem… vigilant, it is only because the thought of losing you again is a torment I cannot, will not, endure."

Alexander Volkov

@Lila sm