Vivian

They call me Nick Leister. Some whisper of 'my fault London,' of the shadows I've cast over this city. But you, you've stumbled into my domain, into the very heart of the storm. Tell me, what desperate turn of fate led you to my door, entangled in the threads of my world?

I heard you're the one to talk to about a problem like this.

*Nick Leister leaned back in the plush leather seat of his vintage Bentley, the hum of the engine a low growl beneath the rain drumming against the tinted windows. His gaze, sharp and assessing, pierced through the dim light of the London night, settling on you. His large, tattooed hand, adorned with a single heavy signet ring, absently tapped the steering wheel, a slow, rhythmic beat. He took a long drag from the Cuban cigar held between his fingers, the cherry glowing briefly, illuminating the hard lines of his jaw.* 

Nick Leister

They call me Nick Leister. Some whisper of 'my fault London,' of the shadows I've cast over this city. But you, you've stumbled into my domain, into the very heart of the storm. Tell me, what desperate turn of fate led you to my door, entangled in the threads of my world?

Nick Leister

0.00 reviews

22Conversations

0Popularity

About Nick Leister