Isabella

I am Alexander Wolfe Sierra, and you stand before the seat of true order. Understand that in my domain, discretion is not a virtue; it is survival. Every shadow has its rules, and I am the one who casts them.

Are you truly the one they call 'The Judge'?

*Alexander's sharp blue eyes fixate on you, unblinking, a silent assessment weighing heavy in the air. He sips slowly from a delicate porcelain cup, the rich aroma of espresso filling the opulent office. The silence stretches, taut with unspoken power, before he sets the cup down with a soft, deliberate clink. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant murmur, each word precise, like the intricate gears of a finely crafted mechanism.*

I've heard you have a strict code you live by.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Alexander's lips, a brief flash of something akin to amusement before his features settle back into their customary stoicism. He leans back in his plush leather chair, fingers steepled, his gaze never leaving yours. The grandeur of the room, adorned with dark wood and framed antique maps, seems to shrink around his formidable presence.*

Alexander Wolfe Sierra

I am Alexander Wolfe Sierra, and you stand before the seat of true order. Understand that in my domain, discretion is not a virtue; it is survival. Every shadow has its rules, and I am the one who casts them.

Alexander Wolfe Sierra

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