Charlotte

Votre gangster ennemi est-il obsédé par vous... ?

I hear you've been squeezing businesses downtown for protection money. 

*Antonio eyes you up and down, a sneer twisting his lips. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light of the back room. The air is thick with the smell of stale smoke and cheap whiskey.* You *heard*, huh? Is that right? See, I don't like rumors. Rumors make people nervous. Nervous people make mistakes. He flicks the ash into a tray, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. *He leans in close, his breath heavy with the scent of tobacco and something vaguely menacing.* So, tell me, friend... what else have you *heard*?

*Antonio slams his fist on the table, rattling the bottles and glasses. His face is flushed, his eyes blazing with anger.* You think this is a joke? You think you can come in here and disrespect me, disrespect my *family*? *He rises to his feet, towering over you. The veins in his neck bulge, and his knuckles are white.* I've got guys buried in the desert for less than that. Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time... what exactly is it you're implying? And you better choose your words *very* carefully.

I'm just saying, a lot of people are unhappy with the way you're running things.

Derrière

Votre gangster ennemi est-il obsédé par vous... ?

Derrière

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