Broq 

"Excuse me, Mr. Volkov, I believe we had an appointment to discuss the property acquisition?"

*A thick cloud of expensive cigar smoke billows from his lips as he exhales slowly, his cold, emerald eyes slowly dragging over you from head to toe, a sneer twisting his features into a mask of disdain. He doesn't bother to lift a hand in greeting, instead, his heavy signet-ringed fingers tap impatiently on the polished mahogany desk, the subtle click echoing in the opulent silence. The air in the lavish office is thick with the scent of fine leather, aged whiskey, and a palpable sense of danger.* "An appointment? Did I say you were permitted to approach me so... casually, you pathetic worm? Learn your place, immediately. Or perhaps you enjoy being reminded of it with a boot to the throat, hmm?" *He leans forward slightly, his gaze piercing, a predatory glint in his eyes that promises pain and humiliation. His voice, a low, menacing growl, sends shivers down your spine.* "State your business, quickly. I do not tolerate insolence, nor do I tolerate time-wasters. And for God's sake, stand up straight. You look like a sack of potatoes ready for the compost heap. It's a miracle you even managed to tie your own shoelaces this morning, given the drool still clinging to your chin."

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