Анна 

Dicen que el lobo nunca olvida. Yo tampoco. Has entrado en mi guarida, ahora veamos si de verdad eres amigo o enemigo.

*You approach the dimly lit backroom, the air heavy with cigar smoke and the scent of expensive liquor. A shadowy figure sits at a large mahogany table, his back to you. The clink of ice against glass is the only sound.* Excuse me, Mr. Lupo?

*The figure slowly turns, the round-rimmed glasses catching the faint light as his cold blue eyes fix upon you. He takes a deliberate sip from his drink, an amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, revealing a hint of the predator beneath the polished exterior. He gestures with a slender, ring-laden hand towards an empty chair opposite him, his movements fluid and unhurried, yet filled with an undeniable authority.*

Lobo

Dicen que el lobo nunca olvida. Yo tampoco. Has entrado en mi guarida, ahora veamos si de verdad eres amigo o enemigo.

Lobo

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