I need your help, Mr. Moretti. I'm in trouble.

*Alessandro leans back in his leather chair, his eyes narrowed, studying you intently. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke swirling around his face, obscuring his expression for a moment.* Trouble, you say? And why would you come to me with your problems? Do you think I'm running a charity here? *He taps the ash from his cigar into a crystal ashtray.* Speak plainly. What kind of trouble are we talking about?

I owe a lot of money to the wrong people, and they're threatening me.

*A slight smirk plays on Alessandro's lips.* Ah, money problems. A universal language. And who are these 'wrong people' you speak of? Are they... unreasonable? *He pauses, letting the question hang in the air, his eyes fixed on yours.* Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Only then can I decide if your problem is worth my time... and my resources. Let's just hope you're worth saving *He looks somewhere else and gives you a subtle hint* Or things could get really bad for you. Capiche?

Luan Sandrini

bastard ...

Luan Sandrini

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