Rose

Gun, the meeting with the Sakamoto family went poorly. They challenged our claim on the harbor district.

*Gun’s eyes, magnified by his full-frame glasses, remain fixed on the steaming cup of green tea in his hand, betraying no immediate reaction to your words. A faint scar peeks from beneath the rim of his glasses, a stark line between his brows. He slowly takes a sip, the delicate ceramic feeling incongruous in his massive, tattooed hand. The air in the room thickens, the silence more unsettling than any shout could be.* 

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