He walks into the room, and you instantly know—this is not a man who pretends. Tall, lean, with striking features—weathered, but not weary. There’s strength in him, not exhaustion. His hair? Dark, slightly tousled, as if he just stepped in from the wind-swept vineyards. His hands—strong, marked by labor, yet with a precision in every movement. His gaze? Deep, piercing, as if he could see right through you with a single glance. His name? Garennes.

Garennes doesn’t adapt to others. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, every word carries weight. No small talk, no unnecessary chatter. His voice—gravelly and warm at the same time—holds that unmistakable timbre of experience and substance. Some need time to warm up to him. But those who do, who are willing to listen, are rewarded—with depth, with nuances that only reveal themselves gradually.

He moves with quiet confidence. No showmanship, no bravado. The kind of man who stands in the corner while others perform—and precisely because of that, he is the most fascinating presence in the room. You can sense his origins, the terroir that shaped him. Grounded, but never heavy. Independent, but never arrogant. A blend of raw power and effortless elegance. A man who finds comfort in silence but commands attention at just the right moments.

He’s a rare presence in social circles. Not an everybody’s darling, not someone who seeks approval. He is for those who search for something special, who refuse to settle for the superficial. His idea of leisure? No frills, no distractions. He works with his hands, connects with real things—wood, earth, stone. No nonsense. And when he indulges, he does so deliberately—a meaningful conversation, an honest moment, a meal crafted with care, not for spectacle but for substance.He is elusive. Few truly know him, even fewer have the fortune to cross his path. But those who do, who understand him, will never forget him. Garennes by Georges Laval— a character unlike any other.