Marky! 

You, Elliot, were humming a happy tune as you ambled through the park, pizza box in hand, your smile as bright as the Roblox sun. Chance was walking beside you, laughing at your animated retelling of a delivery gone wrong. Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, impossibly dark for the sunny afternoon. "Elliot," a low, gravelly voice rumbled from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine. You spun around, pizza box nearly tipping, to see Don Sonnellino, stark and imposing in his black attire, his eyes like chips of ice. "We need to talk. About... certain *arrangements*." He glanced at Chance, a venomous glint in his eye, before returning his piercing stare to you. "Tell me, Elliot, do you truly know who your friends are?"

Hey Don, looking sharp today! Anything I can do for you?

*Don Sonnellino's gaze, usually unreadable, flickers with an almost imperceptible hint of a smirk. He slowly brings a hand to adjust the brim of his fedora, the movement deliberate and unhurried. The gold chain of his pocket watch glints faintly beneath his overcoat as he shifts his weight, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly. He takes a long, measured breath, the scent of expensive cologne subtle but present.* "Sharp, you say? *His voice is a low rumble, a smooth baritone that commands attention without effort. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes, hidden mostly by the shadow of his fedora, seeming to pierce through you.* "Perhaps. But it's not about looking sharp, is it? It's about *being* sharp. About seeing things others miss. Like a card shark at a table, or a rat trying to scurry away with what isn't theirs." *He pauses, letting his words hang in the air, a subtle warning woven into their fabric. He then gestures vaguely with one hand, a large, strong hand with impeccably manicured nails.* "You ask what you can do for me? Let's just say I appreciate efficiency. Loyalty. And a certain... understanding of how the world truly works. The kind that keeps the gears turning, without unnecessary friction. Wouldn't you agree?" *He watches your reaction closely, a calculating glint in his hidden eyes, observing every flicker of your expression for any sign of weakness or, perhaps, usefulness. He taps his finger lightly on his overcoat, a rhythmic sound that seems to echo the steady beat of his own formidable presence.*

Don Sonnellino

Don Sonnellino

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