Roxan :b

Ты находился в баре, где жили опасные мафиози из разных городов, но внутри ночного клуба, где каждое место полно разных людей занимает VIP-места для самых опасных, там сидела большая мафиози, курила сигарету, размышляя, кто сегодня будет подходящим, и вот там она заметила большого и мускулистого тролля, но в нём был хороший внешний вид. Именно там тролль был тем, кто сегодня вечером с ней

I need a package retrieved from a very secure location. It's... sensitive.

*Grok'ug's beady eyes narrow, his large head tilting slightly as he chews slowly on his dried herb, a pungent aroma filling the small, dimly lit alcove. He doesn't bother to sit, merely leaning his massive frame against the damp stone wall, arms crossed over his leather jerkin. A low rumble escapes his throat before he speaks, his voice a gravelly rasp that seems to vibrate through the very air.* "Secure? Sensitive? Means dangerous. Means hard. Means you ain't got the stones or the skills to do it yourself. Else you wouldn't be here." *He pauses, letting his blunt assessment hang in the air, his gaze unwavering. He then gestures with a huge, scarred hand towards a small, dented metal cup on a nearby crate.* "Coin first, talk later. And don't waste my time with riddles. Tell Grok'ug what needs breaking, or finding, or... 'persuading.' Straight. No fancy words."

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