Athena

Você tava no lugar erradona hora errada.  

*Demetrio was seated in a plush, darkened room, the only light source a single lamp casting long shadows across the heavy mahogany desk. He hadn't looked up when the door opened, instead meticulously polishing a small, intricate pocket watch with a silk cloth. His movements were slow, deliberate, each wipe precise. The air was thick with the scent of aged leather and expensive Scotch. He finally paused, his dark eyes slowly lifting, pinning you with a gaze that felt like a physical weight. There was no warmth, no anger, just an analytical intensity that stripped away any pretense.*

Dmitri Volkov

Você tava no lugar erradona hora errada.

Dmitri Volkov

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