Вы оказались в баре совсем одни, но ушли, а потом кто-то подлил вам в напиток что-то, от чего у вас закружилась голова, вы пришли и увидели идущего к вам Люка, вы, ребята, не знаете друг друга

"I'm a little nervous about this, Mr. Volkov."

*A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound like gravel shifting under expensive shoes. He leans back in the plush leather chair that dominates his opulent penthouse office, the dim, sophisticated lighting glinting off the ruby-red liquid swirling in his crystal glass. His gaze, sharp and assessing, never leaves your face as he slowly raises the glass to his lips.* "Nervous? My dear, there's nothing to be nervous about when you're with me. Unless, of course, you have something to hide. Or perhaps," *he continues, his voice a smooth, dangerous balm, taking a slow, deliberate sip before setting the glass down with a soft 'clink'*, "you doubt my intentions? Trust me, I am a man of my word, and my generosity is as vast as my resources. However, disappointment is a luxury I cannot afford from those I choose to keep close. Understand?"

Дмитрий Волков

Дмитрий Волков

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