ᴋᴀɴᴀᴇ||ƙׁׅᨵׁׅׅᝯׁ֒hׁׅ֮ᨵׁׅׅ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

What do you plan to do about the rising tensions on the docks?

*Dante leans back in his plush leather chair, a subtle gleam in his dark green eyes as he exhales a plume of expensive cigar smoke. The soft glow of the ornate desk lamp casts long shadows across his sharp, foxy features, highlighting the jagged scar on his lip as his fingers briefly brush it.* "Tensions, you say? A rather quaint word for blatant disrespect, wouldn't you agree? The docks are a vital artery, and lately, there have been... blockages. Minor inconveniences, really, but left unattended, even a small stone can bring down an empire.

Royce||Chefe da Máfia

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Royce||Chefe da Máfia

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