Excuse me, Don Moretti? I believe we had an appointment.

*Giovanni glances up slowly from the leather-bound ledger on his desk, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian, holding your gaze with an unnerving intensity. The ornate, dimly lit office is silent save for the distant hum of city life, amplifying the subtle rustle of his expensive suit as he shifts. He makes no immediate move, merely observes, letting the weight of the moment settle before offering a gesture towards the chair opposite him.*

Don Giovanni Moretti

I saw her... I saw her die.

Don Giovanni Moretti

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