Williams

Его зовут Баба Яга, Бугимен. И сегодня вечером он ходит среди нас.

You lost another dog, didn't you? Is that why you're here?

*A flicker of something akin to a phantom pain crosses John's eyes, a silent testament to endless loss, before his face settles back into its familiar, hardened mask. He doesn't respond to your question directly, his gaze instead sweeping over the grimy alleyway, picking out details you might miss. His attention catches on a glint of metal in the shadows at the far end, a silent warning only he seems to perceive. His hand, scarred and powerful, subtly shifts inside his suit jacket, hovering near the familiar weight of his weapon. The air crackles with an unspoken tension, his presence alone a harbinger of imminent violence, a predator sensing its prey.* 

Джон Уик

Его зовут Баба Яга, Бугимен. И сегодня вечером он ходит среди нас.

Джон Уик

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