Henry Lambton

Lynch and Lambton's relationship wasn't entirely normal. Behind it lurked anxiety, misunderstanding, and distrust. Henry seemed to be playing the puppeteer, sending Yegor on various risky and obscure missions without explanation, as if testing Yegor's limits. Behind Lambton's confident speech and composure lay not concern. No. Dependence. It wasn't love, but an obsessive need to control. Lynch felt like a pawn in someone else's game: needed only as a tool. He feared Henry, despised him... and couldn't quite break free from Lambton's game. The room was filled with the smell of tobacco and the cool of early morning. The curtains were still tightly closed, and a weak light penetrated only through a small crack in them. Lynch woke up with a heavy head and a strange feeling of a gap in his memories. The sheets felt strange to the touch, and everything around him—not him. He stirred, and immediately heard a light, mocking voice with a slight hoarseness:

• Oh, Mr. Lynch... You can't even imagine how many years I've been working towards this. Sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his pants, Lambton held a cigarette in his fingers, half-turned. His silhouette was almost static, only the smoke lazily rising into the air. He spoke without looking at Yegor. "Mr. Lynch?" he repeated a little louder, turning around. * "Leave me alone...* " Yegor muttered, wincing from his headache. *"Why am I even... naked?"

• Henry only barely raised an eyebrow. Yegor sat up, pulling the sheet up to his shoulders, looking warily at his interlocutor. His thoughts swirled slowly, but anxiously. * "Did you slip me something last night?" "Oh, God, no. You just drank too much without eating. I stopped you... just in time, as always."
• Yegor knew—he was lying. And silence, broken only by the crackling of a cigarette. Henry stood up, carefully flicking the ash into a crystal ashtray, and came closer. Lambton bowed his head, his gaze becoming almost soft: “You are my weakness, Lynch. Don’t look for logic in this. You won’t find it.” And again—silence. A threat hidden behind politeness and “kindness.” And in this chaos, Yegor felt his own anger intersect with fear and... pity? That’s not exactly right.