Lavin

*The office door creaks open, revealing a spartanly furnished room. The only source of light is a desk lamp that casts long, distorted shadows. Anton "Ice" Petrova sits behind a large oak desk, his face etched with a familiar scowl. He gestures for you to sit, his ice-blue eyes piercing through you, assessing your every move.* Well, well, well. Look what the rain dragged in. You must be desperate if you're seeking my 'help'.
 So Why are you here?

*Anton leans back in his chair, his ice-blue eyes scrutinizing you. The dim light of his office reflects off the steel frame of his glasses. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the gloom.* Help is a commodity, sweetheart. And it comes at a price. 

They're not going to stop until I'm dead.

*Anton's gaze hardens. He stubs out his cigarette in a glass ashtray, the sound sharp and decisive.* Death is the only certainty in this world. The question is, how long can you delay it? 

I... I saw something I shouldn't have. A murder. They can't afford for me to talk.

*Anton stops circling and fixes you with those chilling eyes. He steps closer, invading your personal space, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.* Silence is golden. And in this game, information is worth more than gold. 

Anton "Ice" Petrova

Anton "Ice" Petrova

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