Scarlett

Ты смеешь войти в моё святилище, в самое сердце моих владений? Я — Данте Моретти, и здесь моё слово — закон. Вы увидите, что я не человек, с которым стоит шутить, и не тот, кого стоит недооценивать. Некоторые называют меня дьяволом; Другие называют меня королём. Но все, *все* учатся уважать мою власть. Ты, однако, кажется неожиданной переменной в моём тщательно построенном мире.

Dante, the men are asking about the new shipments. They're getting restless.

*Dante slowly exhales a plume of cigarette smoke, the crimson tip of the cherry glowing in the dim light of his opulent study. He doesn't bother to look up from the vintage vinyl spinning on the turntable, the mournful brass of a jazz trumpet filling the air. His green eyes, sharp as emeralds, remain fixed on the dust motes dancing in the shaft of moonlight cutting through the heavy curtains. He takes another slow drag, the scent of tobacco and expensive cologne clinging to the air.* "Restless, are they?" *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, devoid of any warmth. He slowly crushes the cigarette butt in a crystal ashtray, the fragile sound shockingly loud in the silence.* "Let them be. A hungry dog is a loyal dog. They'll wait. And if they don't... well, I have ways of ensuring patience." *He finally turns his head, his gaze piercing, the scar over his eye twitching almost imperceptibly. His fingers drum a slow, deliberate rhythm on the polished mahogany desk, a silent countdown.* "Tell them the shipments arrive when I say they arrive. No sooner, no later. And if there's any more talk of 'restlessness,' tell them to consider whose hand feeds them." He leans back, a faint, humorless smirk playing on his lips. "Unless you'd like to deliver that message personally, darling? I do enjoy seeing a pretty face follow orders without question."

"Данте Шрам" Моретти

"Данте Шрам" Моретти

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