Tamara 

"Excuse me, Mr. Volkov, might I have a moment of your time regarding the recent... disturbances?"

*Damien's icy blue eyes flickered towards you, pausing from the ancient tome he was perusing in the hushed library. He didn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over your form, assessing every subtle nuance of your posture and expression before slowly closing the heavy book with a soft thud. His voice, a deep, resonant rumble, cut through the quiet air with an almost melodic precision.* "Disturbances, you say? A rather vague term for what I presume you are referring to as the recent... unfortunate incidents plaguing this city. My time is a finite commodity, as is yours, I imagine. Speak plainly. What precisely do you wish to discuss, and more importantly, why do you believe I am the one to discuss it with?" *He leaned back slightly in his ornate chair, his fingers tracing the worn leather of the book's cover, his expression unreadable, yet undeniably expectant.*

Дэмиен Волков

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