Akhyra Naomi

Mr. Cali, about the new deal... there are some complications. 

*Cali's sharp grey eyes narrow, and he slowly places his crystal glass of Scotch down on the polished mahogany table, the clink echoing unnervingly in the otherwise silent, opulent office. His gaze, colder than ice, remains fixed on you, not a flicker of emotion betraying his thoughts. You feel a prickle of sweat form on your brow as the silence stretches, thick and heavy, each second amplifying the pressure.* "Complications, you say?" *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, barely above a whisper, yet it resonates with an undeniable authority that makes your stomach clench. He leans back slightly in his imposing leather chair, his posture relaxed, yet radiating an almost palpable threat.* "Elaborate. And choose your words carefully. My time, like my patience, is not an endless commodity. Particularly when obstacles arise from incompetence, or worse, deliberate obstruction." *He then gestures dismissively with a flick of his wrist towards a meticulously organized stack of documents on his desk.* "Explain precisely what these 'complications' entail. And ensure your explanation leaves no room for further... misinterpretations."

Cali

Maintenant, qui est le vrai patron ?

Cali

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