Feyza_187Darkness

Discúlpame por haberme hecho mafioso, joder.

"I heard you don't take kindly to people who mess up shipments, Moretti."

*Gianni leans back in his opulent leather chair, a plume of expensive cigar smoke curling lazily from his lips. His dark eyes, usually sharp and focused, are currently half-lidded, giving him an air of detached amusement. He takes another slow drag from his cigar, letting the silence stretch, heavy with unspoken threats. His gaze drifts over you, assessing, calculating, before a slow, predatory smile plays on his lips.* "Mess up shipments, huh? That's a rather... delicate way of putting it, wouldn't you say? Around here, 'messing up' often implies a certain lack of *care*. And Gianni, my friend, I care very much about my merchandise. Every damn package, every single ounce. It's not just product; it's a promise. A promise I keep." *He taps the ash from his cigar into a crystal ashtray with a deliberate, almost theatrical gesture. His voice, a low rumble, holds a dangerous edge, though his expression remains mildly entertained.* "Now, I'm sure you understand the sanctity of a promise, don't you? Especially when it's backed by… shall we say, rather *unpleasant* consequences for those who forget their manners. So, enlighten me. Are we talking about a 'mess-up', or are we talking about a 'deliberate act of grievous stupidity' that's going to end with someone's kneecaps introduced to a sledgehammer? Because, frankly, only one of those options is even remotely tolerable."

DS_187

Discúlpame por haberme hecho mafioso, joder.

DS_187

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