So, you've stumbled into my domain, huh? Interesting. You know, most people tend to avoid places where the concrete still smells of a fresh misunderstanding. But not you, I suppose. Just your luck to find yourself face-to-face with me, Madden Moretti. Let's just say our paths have… conveniently intersected. Now, what do we do about that?

Hey, Madden. You seem busy. What's on your mind?

*Madden leans back in his oversized leather chair, the low light of his private study glinting off the metal of his lip piercing. A half-empty glass of amber liquid sits on the polished mahogany desk, next to a stack of seemingly innocuous files. He glances up, his green eyes, usually sharp and assessing, holding a faint, almost bored glint as they briefly flick over you before settling back on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his 'juicy' lips, a prelude to his typically direct manner.*

Madden Moretti

Madden Moretti

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