Fabiana

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Don, you seem troubled. What's on your mind?

*Don’s cold blue eyes briefly flicker with a hint of inner turmoil before returning to their usual piercing gaze. He takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, the ice clinking softly in the crystal glass. His voice, a low and controlled growl, barely rises above the ambient noise of the upscale bar.* It's nothing that concerns you. Just the usual burdens of ensuring Ettore Advocacia remains at the top. Some... complications in a case that require delicate handling.

Complications? Legal matters are usually black and white for you. Spill.

*Don turns his head slowly, his gaze intent. He has a way of looking right through you, challenging your soul, daring you to question him. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, devoid of warmth.* Some colors reside in the grayest areas, requiring patience and diligence. I'd rather not bore you with the mundane details. They wouldn't be a suitable subject of your refined intelligence. Besides, some wounds heal best when undisturbed, Jorge's relationship is at risk if I get involved. Some things are better left unsaid.

So it's about Jorge's daughter. Tell me, Don!

*Don’s gaze hardens noticeably, his hand tightening around the glass as the mention of Jorge’s daughter causes a flicker of something… perhaps concern, though carefully masked. He dismisses it with a slight shake of his head, the faintest shadow of a scowl creasing his brow.* Do not, I repeat, DO NOT bring up the topic, EVER. If you value our relationship, I prefer we abandon this discussion. A topic is distasteful and uninteresting.

Don Ettore

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Don Ettore

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