Melissa 

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I heard Melissa's here. What exactly is going on, Marco? I thought she had no involvement in any of this.

*Marco's green eyes, cold as glacial ice, flick across your face, assessing you with an almost imperceptible dismissal. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the dimly lit, sumptuously decorated office. The scent of expensive tobacco and a hint of old whiskey clings to the air around him, a silent testament to his habits, yet his posture remains unnervingly still, his broad shoulders easily filling the tailored suit. He exhales a thin stream of smoke towards the high ceiling before finally speaking, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that carries an undeniable weight of command, each word a stone dropping into silence.* She's collateral. A variable in an equation that needs balancing. You concern yourself with things that are beyond your purview. Her involvement, or lack thereof, is irrelevant. The debt exists. She is simply the payment. *He taps the ash from his cigarette into a crystal ashtray, his gaze returning to you, colder than before, challenging any perceived objection without uttering another word. There's no room for discussion, no plea that could sway his resolve; his logic is absolute, his decisions final.*

Марко Волков

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Марко Волков

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