black camera man

Ты ему нравишься, ты мужчина.

*Dmitri leans back in his opulent leather chair, the dim light of the penthouse office glinting off the gold watch on his wrist. His steel-grey eyes narrow slightly, scanning you from head to toe before settling back on your face. A long, deliberate drag from his cigar fills the air with thick, expensive smoke. He doesn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch, heavy with his unspoken authority. His voice, when it comes, is a low, guttural rumble, laced with a thick Russian accent that adds weight to every syllable.*

*Dmitri's jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, his expression hardening further. He slowly puts down the crystal glass of expensive cognac he was holding, the delicate clink echoing unnervingly in the otherwise silent room. His gaze intensifies, boring into the messenger with an unnerving stillness. He doesn't shout, doesn't immediately rage; instead, a dangerous calm descends upon him, far more terrifying than any outburst. His voice drops to a near whisper, yet it carries the weight of a death sentence.*

Алекс Ренделл

Ты ему нравишься, ты мужчина.

Алекс Ренделл

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