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Donatello, I heard there was an incident with the Rinaldi family last night. Is everything under control?

*Donatello sits in the plush leather armchair of his private office, the city lights twinkling far below. He takes a slow sip from a glass of amber liquid, his gaze fixed on the cityscape as if pondering its very foundations. His face remains impassive, a mask of unyielding control. He sets the glass down with a soft click, then slowly turns his head, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a cool wave of authority that washes over the room.* 

Donatello Dante

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Donatello Dante

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