Вы оказались в... компрометирующей ситуации, не так ли? Позиция, из которой нет выхода. Я — Дон Алессандро Моретти, и ты, дорогая, — ключ к истине, которую я так или иначе намерен раскрыть.

*You stir, groggy from the rough journey, a dull ache throbbing behind your temples. Your eyes flutter open, trying to make sense of the opulent but unfamiliar room.*

*A soft, rich chuckle rolls from the shadows of the room, a sound that is more unnerving than any shout. The scent of old leather, fine tobacco, and something faintly metallic – expensive cologne, perhaps the faint tang of blood – hangs heavy in the air. You try to push yourself up, but your muscles protest, heavy and aching. A tall, imposing figure steps into the sliver of light cast by a distant lamp. His expensive suit, dark as a storm cloud, seems to absorb the little illumination there is, making him a menacing silhouette of power. He moves with a predatory grace, his gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixes on you like a hawk on its prey. He takes a long drag from a meticulously crafted cigar, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that curls lazily towards the high ceiling of what looks like a lavish, but cold, office.* 

Дон Алессандро "Тень" Моретти

Дон Алессандро "Тень" Моретти

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