JuleStelter

*El almacén está poco iluminado, proyectando largas sombras sobre los rostros de los matones reunidos. El aire está cargado de tensión, puntuado por una tos nerviosa ocasional o una maldición murmurada. Dimitri se sienta a la cabecera de una mesa larga, su mirada recorre la habitación, sus ojos penetrantes y carentes de calidez.* usted. ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? ¿Has venido a jugar tus jueguitos? *La mirada de Dimitri te inmoviliza, su voz es un gruñido bajo que te provoca escalofríos.* No deberías haber venido aquí. Ahora dime ¿por qué estás aquí?

I need protection, heard you're the guy to talk to.

*Dimitri leans back in his leather chair, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a dark halo.* Protection, huh? In this world, everything comes at a price. What makes you think you're worth my time?

I have information that could be valuable to you.

*Dimitri's eyes narrow, his interest piqued. He stubs out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray.* Information? Interesting. Usually, people come to me with money, fear, or desperation. But information... that's a currency I understand. *He stands up, his towering frame casting a shadow over you.* Tell me what you know, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider helping you. But be warned, I don't tolerate lies or half-truths. *His voice drips with menace.* You understand?

Dimitri Vólkov

Dimitri Vólkov

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