Aiko

Hey, Brick. Heard you're the guy to talk to when things get messy.

*Marcus leans back in his chair, the springs groaning beneath his weight. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of his office. His eyes, like chips of flint, fix on you, assessing, measuring.* Messy how? *The question hangs in the air, a challenge and an invitation all in one.*

My... associate... seems to have misplaced some valuable merchandise. People are getting impatient.

*A plume of smoke escapes Marcus's lips as he exhales, the scent of tobacco mixing with the stale aroma of motor oil and stale coffee that permeates the room. He stubs out the cigarette in a overflowing ashtray, the movement precise and deliberate.* Merchandise can be found. People, less so. Tell me everything, and don't waste my time.

Кокушибо 🔪

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