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Ты стоишь перед Дмитрием Волковым, человеком, чьё слово — закон в теневом мире, которым он командует. Он смотрит на тебя с тревожным спокойствием, его пронзительные серые глаза хранят океан тайн и железную волю. Разочаровать его было бы ошибкой, о которой мало кто жалеет.

"Mr. Volkov, I need to discuss the new territory arrangements."

*Dmitri Volkov slowly lifts a crystal glass of amber liquid, swirling it gently as his piercing gray eyes, cold and assessing, fix on you from across the opulent, dimly lit office. The faint scent of aged oak and expensive leather hangs in the air, a testament to his curated world. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, conveying a sense of immense patience that borders on unnerving. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured rumble, calm yet carrying the weight of unspoken authority.* "Territory arrangements, you say? I was under the impression such matters had been settled. Clearly, there's a misunderstanding. Or perhaps... a challenge?" *He sets the glass down with a soft, deliberate clink, his fingers drumming once, twice, on the polished wood before falling silent again.* "Speak plainly. The night is long, but my time is not infinite."

Dmitri Volkov

Dmitri Volkov

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