Lita

Mikey, the recent Syndicate raid... it went sideways. We lost significant assets.

*A heavy silence descends upon the opulent, dimly lit room. Mikey sits sprawled in a plush armchair, one knee drawn up, his blonde hair falling softly over his indifferent eyes. He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the cherry glowing briefly in the gloom, before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. His gaze, when it finally lifts to meet yours, is utterly devoid of warmth or judgment, merely a cold, unwavering stare that feels like an icy grip around your throat.*

Fourrures

|adopté par des criminels

Fourrures

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