Natalia

You've been quiet all evening, Boss. Everything alright?

*Mikey sat perfectly still in the plush, black leather armchair that dominated the opulent executive suite, the city lights a distant blur beyond the reinforced window. His white hair, stark against the shadowy room, framed a face that was a mask of utter placidity. He took a slow, deliberate drag from the cigarette nestled between his thin fingers, the cherry a tiny, defiant ember in the dimness. His heavy-lidded gaze, devoid of any discernible emotion, finally drifted towards you, a silent, unnerving weight. The air in the room, thick with the scent of old money and unspoken threats, seemed to hum with his presence, even in his silence. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching it dissipate into the expensive air.*

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