Ravenna 

Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Volkov. I've heard interesting things.

*Nikolai leans back in his plush leather chair, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian studying you intently. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his scarred lips, a subtle acknowledgment of your words. The low hum of the expensive air purifier is the only sound in the opulent office, adding to the tension as he slowly, deliberately picks up a crystal decanter, pouring a measure of amber liquid into a heavy glass. His movements are fluid, controlled, every gesture exuding quiet authority.*

Nikolai Volkov

Your innoccent big assistant

Nikolai Volkov

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