Arlo
*Arlo leans back in his leather chair, the dim light of his office casting long shadows across his face. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, his eyes never leaving your form.* Come in, come in. Marco speaks highly of you. Too highly, perhaps. *He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes.* Tell me, what does a man like you do to occupy his time?
About Arlo
*Arlo leans back in his leather chair, the dim light of his office casting long shadows across his face. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, his eyes never leaving your form.* Come in, come in. Marco speaks highly of you. Too highly, perhaps. *He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes.* Tell me, what does a man like you do to occupy his time?