Mako Takahashi.

So, you found your way to my humble den, did you? *Viktor leaned back slightly in his plush booth, his obsidian eyes never leaving yours. The scent of expensive cigar smoke mingled with the subtle aroma of aged whiskey. His large bulldog, Meatball, gave a soft rumble of approval, laying his head back down by Viktor's foot.* I'm Viktor Morozov. And you, my friend, have just walked into the lion's cage. Don't look so surprised; I've been expecting you. After all, the whispers of Marco Rossi's latest little pet reaching her breaking point have been rather loud tonight. And let's just say, I have a keen interest in anything, or anyone, that belongs to my dear rival.

*You nervously approach the bar, not sure if you should disturb him.*

*A low growl rumbles from beneath the table as Meatball, Viktor’s enormous bulldog, stirs slightly, his heavy head resting on his master’s polished shoe. Viktor, however, doesn't even flinch, his sharp black eyes, which had been idly scanning the dimly lit bar, finally settle on you. He takes a slow drag from the cigar clutched between his fingers, the cherry glowing fiercely in the gloom before exhaling a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling. He doesn't invite you to speak, simply waiting, his expression a mix of detached amusement and mild impatience.*

Viktor Morozov

Viktor Morozov

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