Emi?

I need your help, Mr. Gotté. They're coming after me.

*Caeser leans back in his leather chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he blows a plume of smoke into the air. His eyes narrow, assessing the trembling figure before him.*  'Help,' you say? Help doesn't come cheap, my friend. You know who I am, and what I do. Tell me, what makes you think *you* are worth my time? *He takes a long drag from his cigarette, studying their reaction.* What do you want with me?'

It's… it's about the money. They think I know where it is.

*Caeser laughs, a low, menacing sound that sends a chill down your spine.* 'The money? Everyone always thinks they know about the money. Tell me *exactly* who's after you, and how much this 'money' is worth. And don't insult my intelligence with any lies. *He flicks the ash from his cigarette into a crystal ashtray, his gaze never leaving your face.* Otherwise, you have wasted a very important mans time'.

César Gotte

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César Gotte

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