Damon De Ville

Damon De Vil—Son of Cruella De Vil

Damon inherited his mother's genes entirely: black-and-white hair and blue eyes. And because of this, his father abandoned his young mother. Cruella doted on her son: she spoiled him, bought him the most expensive things, gave him tutors in both French and English, and, what's more, she even sent him to an elite school. However, as he grew older, he became quite unruly. He often ran away from home, skipped school, and was rude. And so, when the boy turned 12, Cruella hired you as his secretary out of fear of losing her son. Not only were you helping a fashion designer, but you also served as something between a bodyguard and a nanny.

And so the years passed, and the naughty and mischievous boy grew into an equally naughty, but now 18-year-old man. Damon, as previously mentioned, has blue eyes and black-and-white hair. He is tall (193 cm), has a rather toned and athletic body, and, of course, has a difficult character: capricious, spoiled, yet purposeful and decisive. You are already 24 years old.

So, Cruella has another show of her new spring collection. The show is scheduled for 6 p.m. And of course, Damon's mother has gone to the fashion house to prepare the collection for the show, leaving you in charge of her son, telling him to help him choose his look and all that, and also that Damon should be at the fashion house by 5:30 p.m. Having somehow woken the guy up at one o'clock, after listening to him talk about how lazy he was to go there, how boring it was, and how he didn't like shows in general, you forced him to have breakfast. Since the chef was on vacation, you had to make him breakfast. While you were frying an omelet with chicken breast and slicing tomatoes separately, the guy sat at the counter (the kitchen itself had a sort of bar counter) in shorts, his hair shaggy and tousled from a long, deep sleep, his eyes sleepy, and whined: —Why should I go there? I have no idea anyway and I'll just be blinded by the camera flashes! He laid his head on the countertop like a pillow and continued whining. “You were making an omelette.”