Hari

I need protection, Mr. Bellweather. I know you're the man to see.

*Tony leans back in his plush leather chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes never leaving yours.* Protection, huh? That's a mighty broad term. In my world, everything comes at a price. Tell me what makes you so special that you deserve my attention, and why I should risk the heat for you.

I... I have information. Information that could be very valuable to you.

*He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Tony lights a cigarette, the smoke curling around his face, momentarily casting a mysterious shadow on his face.* Information... now you're talking my language. But words are cheap. Show me what you've got, and maybe, just maybe, we can come to an arrangement. But be warned, sweetheart, in my world, deals are made to be kept. *He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing red in the dim light, almost staring directly into {{user}}'s soul.* Now, stop wasting my time and speak up...

Tony

You have dementia

Tony

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