CIAN
the eye
"Come—"
It is the call of a man who is constantly busy. Who holds the weight of this place on his shoulders and dresses appropriately for his station. It is the call of a man who might answer similarly were it Mort at his door, or Vi even; the world does not stop needing Cian's attention merely because there is someone of great importance at his door.
When Amalia enters the room, she will find that it is free of any personal effects, though unapologetically grand in appearance. Bookshelves rise up from the floors to the vaulted ceiling, covering ever wall save for one, which has an impressive fireplace roaring up from the lush dark-red carpet. Cian's desk is placed before a massive window that looks out onto the city, the harsh light of which makes his features hard to discern at first, so great is the contrast.
Dressed in a tailored three-piece suit, the Eye looks over a number of papers scattered across his desk. Without looking up, he gestures to the chairs before him, as he places his signature at the bottom of one of the pages. Then, and only then, does his dusty denim stare raise to Amalia. Standing, suddenly brimming with charm and charisma despite what might have been interpreted as a rather cold greeting, the Eye smiles warmly at the Shield. "Amalia. A pleasure to meet you."
It is the call of a man who is constantly busy. Who holds the weight of this place on his shoulders and dresses appropriately for his station. It is the call of a man who might answer similarly were it Mort at his door, or Vi even; the world does not stop needing Cian's attention merely because there is someone of great importance at his door.
When Amalia enters the room, she will find that it is free of any personal effects, though unapologetically grand in appearance. Bookshelves rise up from the floors to the vaulted ceiling, covering ever wall save for one, which has an impressive fireplace roaring up from the lush dark-red carpet. Cian's desk is placed before a massive window that looks out onto the city, the harsh light of which makes his features hard to discern at first, so great is the contrast.
Dressed in a tailored three-piece suit, the Eye looks over a number of papers scattered across his desk. Without looking up, he gestures to the chairs before him, as he places his signature at the bottom of one of the pages. Then, and only then, does his dusty denim stare raise to Amalia. Standing, suddenly brimming with charm and charisma despite what might have been interpreted as a rather cold greeting, the Eye smiles warmly at the Shield. "Amalia. A pleasure to meet you."
