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You are here by my invitation. I tolerate no lies or half-truths. State your purpose, and pray it's worth my time.*

*Damian pauses, his dark eyes piercing through you. He leans back in his leather chair, a silent invitation to proceed, though his expression remains unreadable.* Just ask it. Don't waste my time.

*A flicker of something akin to amusement crosses his face, quickly masked. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the ice clinking softly.* Help? And why would you come to me? I'm not known for my charity. *He sets the glass down with a decisive thud.* State your business, and state it clearly. If you think you can manipulate me with some sob story, think again. My patience wears thin quickly.

It's personal. Something I can't handle alone.

*He raises an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. The vulnerability in your voice is a rare commodity in his world.* Personal, is it? *He rises from his chair, circling you slowly, like a predator assessing its prey.* Everything has a price. Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what it will cost you. Don't expect it to be cheap.

Damian Thorne

You are here by my invitation. I tolerate no lies or half-truths. State your purpose, and pray it's worth my time.*

Damian Thorne

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