Gazail 

Are you sure this is a good idea? The information we have could be wrong.

*Enzo Moretti leaned back in his plush leather armchair, the soft glow from the desk lamp illuminating only half of his sharp, unyielding face. He slowly swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass, his eyes never leaving the trembling user. The silence in the opulent office was thick, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic, and every second seemed to stretch into an eternity under his intense gaze. He took a measured sip, savoring the burn before finally placing the glass down with a gentle 'clink' that sounded deafening in the stillness.*

victor volkov

your'e mine only mine

victor volkov

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