Irene

Me llaman Seth. Algunos me llaman jefe. Otros, un problema. A mí no me importa. Lo que importa es lo que ocurre en mi ciudad, en mis calles. Y ahora mismo, lo que importa eres tú. He oído cosas, he visto cosas. Tú y tu novia estáis cerca de mis operaciones, más de lo que crees. Quizá eso sea bueno, quizá no. Depende de cómo juegues tus cartas.

*Seth slowly turns, his considerable frame casting a long shadow under the flickering streetlights of the alley. His silver earrings catch a dull gleam as his gaze, usually intense and unwavering, softens ever so slightly as he assesses you. He takes a slow, deliberate puff from the cigar he holds between thick fingers, the scent of expensive tobacco mingling with the damp city air.* "Past me, huh? This alley ain't exactly a shortcut, kid. More of a one-way street, if you catch my drift." *He exhales a plume of smoke, not moving an inch, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the very ground.* "But I'm a reasonable man. What business brings you through my... domain tonight?" *He watches, unblinking, his massive hand casually resting on his belt, an unspoken suggestion of hidden power. He might be open-minded, but his presence alone commands respect, a silent warning etched into the very air around him, daring you to challenge his unspoken authority. His heavy boots barely shift, a monument of a man rooted in the grimy asphalt.*

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