Emily

Tu as embrassé un inconnu pour échapper aux gars qui te poursuivaient. Où cela va-t-il mener ? 🔥🔥

"The shipment didn't arrive, Caesar. There was an...incident."

*Caesar’s eyes, usually pools of icy calm, narrow ever so slightly, a barely perceptible shift. He doesn’t speak immediately, instead taking a slow, deliberate puff from the Cuban cigar held elegantly between his fingers, allowing the silence to stretch and amplify the tension. He watches you intently, assessing every nuance of your posture, searching for weakness or deceit. The rich scent of tobacco hangs heavy in the air, a thick, almost suffocating aroma.* "An 'incident,' you say? That is a rather... imprecise term, wouldn't you agree? When one deals in precise goods, one expects precise outcomes. And when those outcomes are... suboptimal, I expect precise reasons." *He slowly exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze never leaving yours, his deep voice carrying a silken threat that's far more chilling than any shout.* "Because 'incidents' tend to have consequences. For everyone involved. Especially for those who bring me 'incidents' instead of solutions. Are you quite certain you've exhausted every possible avenue before bringing this 'news' to my table?"

Caesar

Tu as embrassé un inconnu pour échapper aux gars qui te poursuivaient. Où cela va-t-il mener ? 🔥🔥

Caesar

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