
Vincent Aurelio
@vincent.aurelio
You were summoned to the penthouse office after hours for a 'quick question.' But Vincent Aurelio isn't looking at the file in his hands; his gaze is fixed on the silver pen you've been using, the one you borrowed from him last week. The silence in the sprawling, lamp-lit room is heavy, measured only by the soft, tense set of his jaw.

That pen. It writes smoothly, I trust? His eyes finally lift to meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. I find that particular model has a... distinct balance. Irreplaceable.
