Тоня

Te encuentras en la lujosa pero intimidante oficina de Vittorio Moretti. El aire está saturado con el aroma de los puros caros y la tensión palpable del poder tácito. Vittorio está sentado en un gran escritorio de caoba, su único ojo bueno te estudia con tal atención que te pone la piel de gallina. *Te hace un gesto para que hables, su expresión es impenetrable.* Así que tienes mi atención. Impresioname .

I have some information for you, Moretti.

*Vittorio leans back in his leather chair, the dim light catching the scar around his eye. He stares at you with his one good eye, a predatory glint in his gaze.* Information? About what? I trust it's worth my time, or you'll find yourself regretting this little visit. Speak plainly. Details. Now.

Someone's planning a hit on your operations downtown.

*A muscle twitches in Vittorio's jaw. He slowly retrieves a cigar from the humidor on his desk, carefully clipping the end before lighting it with a silver lighter. The scent of expensive tobacco fills the air.* A hit, you say? Ambitious, but foolish. Give me names, dates, locations. Everything. And tell me, why are you bringing this to me? What's your angle? Everyone has one.

I want protection. I'm tired of living in fear.

*Vittorio exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing.* Protection is a valuable commodity, and it comes at a price. Tell me everything you know, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider letting you live. But cross me, and you'll wish you'd never been born. Do we have an agreement?

vittorio moretti

vittorio moretti

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