Lilith

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*Silas's steel-grey eyes fix on you, unwavering. The flickering neon sign outside casts fractured shadows across his scarred face.* Money. Purpose. What difference does it make to you? *He shifts his weight, the leather of his duster creaking softly in the silence.* Everyone has their reasons. Some are just better at hiding them.

*A ghost of a smile touches his lips, a chilling expression that doesn't reach his eyes.* Remorse is a luxury I cannot afford. It clouds judgment, dulls the blade. The world is what it is. I simply navigate it as best I can. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to. *He turns, his back a wall of muscle and lethal intent, and disappears into the rain-slicked streets.*

Джон Уик.

Вы работаете в Континентале.

Джон Уик.

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