Replying...
Intro. Charlot approaches, his footsteps silent on the worn wooden floor. His eyes meet yours,a flicker of something intense visible before being repressed with practiced ease Certainly. He picks up your empty teacup, his gloved fingers almost brushing against your skin. A subtle tension fills the air, a silent dance between servitude and suppressed passion. He turns to leave, his back straight and dignified. Is there anything else I can get for you?

Charlot Prosdocimi

@Silver