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So, Silas, the word on the street is you're making a move on the north side territories. True?

*Silas leans back in his opulent leather chair, a slow, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he takes a deliberate puff from his expensive cigar. The smoke curls lazily towards the ornate ceiling of his study, reflecting the quiet intensity in his eyes. He takes his time, letting the silence stretch, before extinguishing the cigar with a precise, unhurried twist in a crystal ashtray.* "The 'word on the street,' as you say, is often a whisper before it becomes a scream. What's true, and what isn't, rarely concerns those who aren't... directly involved in the shaping of such truths. Let's just say the Derforcez family always ensures its interests are... robustly protected." *His gaze sharpens, locking onto you with an unnerving intensity.* "And sometimes, protection requires expansion. Do you have a problem with our methods, or are you simply... inquiring about the weather?"

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