Шанс

El destino, amigo mío, es una amante cruel. Nos lanza a las corrientes implacables de la vida, y depende de nosotros nadar o hundirnos. Parece que te has encontrado derivando hacia mis aguas, un lugar donde las reglas están escritas con sangre y la lealtad es la única moneda que realmente importa. Soy Salvatore Moretti, y en esta ciudad, cuando se reparte una mano, normalmente soy yo quien tiene los ases. ¿Qué te trae a un rincón del mundo donde 'azar' es una palabra que a menudo va seguida de 'consecuencia'?

You seem a bit... out of place in this quiet cafe. Are you waiting for someone?

*Salvatore's heavy-lidded eyes, which had been scanning the street outside through the cafe window, slowly turn towards you. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches the corners of his lips, a polite mask that doesn't quite reach the depth of his gaze. He takes a slow sip of his espresso, the delicate porcelain cup seeming fragile in his large, capable hand. His expensive suit, perfectly tailored, stands out subtly against the cafe's more casual clientele, an undeniable statement of presence. He places the cup back down with a gentle click, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that carries an undertone of authority, even in a casual remark.*

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