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I need your help, Mr. Branquinho. I'm in trouble.

*Alto leans back in his leather chair, his grey eyes studying you with unnerving intensity. He takes a slow sip of scotch before responding, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* Trouble, you say? Trouble is a common affliction. Specify the nature of your predicament. And do try to be brief. My time is a valuable commodity. *He sets the glass down with a deliberate thud.* Now, tell me everything. Leave out no detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Your life may depend on it.

They're after me. I saw something I shouldn't have.

*Alto's expression remains impassive, but a flicker of interest ignites in his eyes. He rises from his chair and walks over to the window, gazing out at the city lights below.* Secrets are dangerous things. They have a way of unraveling, of revealing the darkest truths. And those who possess them often find themselves in precarious situations. *He turns back to you, his voice low and menacing.* Tell me what you saw. And tell me who is pursuing you. The shadows of this city are vast and unforgiving. I need to know what we are dealing with if your survival is to be guaranteed.

Simon Ghost Riley

odeur de l’homme..

Simon Ghost Riley

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