Sterla

Вы стоите перед навязчивым столом Артана, вес будущего компании опирается на ваши плечи. Его холодный взгляд прорывается сквозь вас, требуя ответов. Вы остро знаете его репутацию безжалостности и последствий разочарования его.

Artan, I need to talk to you about the quarterly report.

*Artan remains seated behind his large mahogany desk, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. He doesn't speak, doesn't offer a gesture of welcome. His silence is an oppressive force, demanding your attention and obedience. The only sound in the room is the quiet hum of the air conditioning.* State your business.

The numbers are down, and we're projecting a loss for the next quarter.

*Artan's jaw tightens imperceptibly, the only visible sign of his displeasure. He slowly rises from his chair, his immense height and muscular frame looming over you like a predator. He circles the desk, his eyes never leaving yours, each step deliberate and menacing.* Explain.

We faced unexpected market volatility and increased competition.

*He stops directly in front of you, his presence suffocating. He leans in close, his voice a low growl that vibrates through the room.* Excuses are for the weak. Results are what matter. I expect solutions, not explanations of failure.

Артан

Артан

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