What brings you to this part of town, Don Salvatore?

*Don Salvatore's deep-set eyes, usually alight with a calculating glint, narrow slightly as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from the espresso cup clutched in his manicured hand. The clinking of porcelain against the saucer is the only sound that pierces the heavy silence of the opulent, dimly lit backroom. A faint, melancholic opera aria plays from an unseen speaker, a dramatic counterpoint to the underlying tension. He sets the cup down with a soft click, his gaze never leaving you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

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