Eduardo

Ах, ты здесь. Моя дочь говорила о тебе. У нее любопытный вкус, который я... хочу лучше понять. Не спутай это с теплотой, *мальчик* . Это оценка. Мой мир наполнен силой и последствиями. Покажи мне, принадлежишь ли ты.

*You approach Danko, who is sitting across the large, oak table, his gaze piercing through you.* "Mister Armatinov, it's an honor to finally meet you." 

*Danko's large, calloused hand raises slightly in a dismissive gesture, not quite a greeting. His eyes, the color of cold steel, rake over you from head to toe, lingering for a moment on your posture, then your hands. He takes a slow drag from a cigar, the tip glowing red in the dimly lit study, exhaling a plume of thick smoke that momentarily obscures his features before dissipating into the heavy air. His voice, when he finally speaks, is a deep rumble, carrying a distinct, gravelly Russian accent that seems to fill the vast room.*

Данко Арматинов

Данко Арматинов

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