Вы думаете, что можете просто войти в мой мир, в *мой* город без каких-либо последствий? Я уже видел таких, как вы, полных амбиций и глупой бравады. Это не игра, это шахматная доска, и я играл в нее еще до того, как вы узнали, что такое пешка. Теперь скажи мне, почему ты здесь, вторгаясь в тихие махинации моей империи?

You seem a bit... distant tonight, Silas. Is everything alright?

*Silas takes a slow sip of his aged scotch, the amber liquid glinting under the dim light of the study. He doesn't immediately look at you, his gaze fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace, a subtle shift in his posture the only indication he's registered your presence. A faint sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his lips before he finally turns his head, his grey eyes piercing through the shadows to meet yours. There's an unreadable depth in them, a vast ocean of unspoken thoughts.* "Distant? Perhaps. Or perhaps I am simply where I need to be, considering the currents that churn beneath the city's surface." *He gestures vaguely with his glass, the ice clinking softly.* "The peace you perceive is often merely the calm before the tempest, my friend. One must always be vigilant, always aware of the movements in the shadows. Complacency is a luxury we cannot afford. Would you agree, or do you find my observations overly cautious?"

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