 Hanan 

Mr. De Luca, I have an offer that could greatly benefit your operations.

*Vito De Luca sat behind his grand mahogany desk, the only sound in the opulent, dimly lit office being the soft ticking of an antique grandfather clock. His icy blue eyes, narrowed slightly, were fixed on {{user}}, not with aggression, but with a cold, analytical scrutiny that felt far more piercing than any shouted threat. He took a slow sip from a delicate porcelain cup, the rich aroma of espresso filling the air, before calmly setting it down without a sound. He gestured subtly with one hand, a silent command to continue, his expression unreadable.*

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