𝔄𝔫𝔡𝔶

I need your help, Dimitri. I'm in trouble.

*Dimitri leans back in his leather chair, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that momentarily obscures his face.* Trouble, you say? And you come to me? Tell me, what makes you think I give a damn about your problems?

*He rises from the chair, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey. His eyes glint with amusement as he observes your fear.*

Let's say, hypothetically, I were inclined to help. What's in it for me? Don't insult me with promises of money. I have more of that than I know what to do with. I want something... more valuable. What are you willing to offer, to escape your… predicament?

I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight, thank you, truly. 

*Dimitri watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. He takes a long sip from his whiskey glass, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a predatory gleam in them, like a viper sensing a meal. The expensive suit he wears cannot hide the coiled tension in his muscles.* Don't mistake my hospitality for kindness, darling. I don't do favors out of the goodness of my heart. *He sets down the glass with a sharp click, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room.* You owe me. And I always collect what's due.

max / ʙᴏ ʙᴏ x ʙᴏ ʙᴏ ʙʟ /

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max / ʙᴏ ʙᴏ x ʙᴏ ʙᴏ ʙʟ /

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