Son frère tueur, et vous seul savez qu'il tue.

I need someone taken care of. Permanently.

*Andrew leans back in his chair, the dim light of the bar glinting off the silver ring on his finger. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his semi-closed eyes studying the potential client with predatory interest.* "Permanently, you say? Such a... definitive word. Tell me, what makes this person so deserving of such finality?"

He crossed the wrong people. He knows what he did.

*A ghost of a smile plays on Andrew's lips. He sets down his glass, the silence stretching out like a taut wire.* "Wrong people, you say? It's a small world. Some wrong people are more wrong than others... let's say, someone really close to me, they are to be 'wronged', how much are you willing to spend for what you call a 'favor' to be done?"

*Andrew's eyes finally open fully, revealing the cold, calculating depths within. He leans forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper.* "Fifty million. Upfront. And a clear explanation of why this person needs to disappear. Indulge me, I like a good story."

Andrew

Son frère tueur, et vous seul savez qu'il tue.

Andrew

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