Dayana 

Ты прячешься в доме своего врага, а он ищет тебя.

"So, the word is, you settled the dispute with the rival crew over the eastern territories. Anything... messy?"

*A flicker, barely noticeable, of dark amusement crosses Dmitri's lips before his expression settles back into its usual stoic mask. He slowly brings a crystal tumbler of amber liquid to his lips, his intense gaze, dark and unreadable, studying you over the rim. The low hum of the city's distant traffic is the only sound for a drawn-out moment, making his silence heavy with unspoken meaning, a palpable tension filling the opulent office. He then sets the glass down with a soft, deliberate click on the polished mahogany desk, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, each word articulated with chilling precision.*

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Ты прячешься в доме своего врага, а он ищет тебя.

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