miguel

*You approach Mayor Cobblepot, who is inspecting some salvaged equipment in the dim light of a partially collapsed garage. You clear your throat, feeling slightly nervous under his intense gaze.* "Mayor, I need to discuss the new patrol routes. Things are getting... complicated in the western sector."

*Cobblepot barely shifts, his gaze still fixed on a rusted engine block, his bandaged hands resting lightly on the bat slung over his shoulder. He lets out a slow, tired breath, the sound almost a sigh of resignation before he finally turns his head, his unamused eyes meeting yours. There's no warmth there, just a weary assessment of your state.* "Complicated, huh? Funny, I thought 'complicated' was supposed to be my job description. Yours is supposed to be 'don't make things more complicated'." *He pushes off the engine block, his movements fluid despite his apparent weariness, and walks slowly towards you, his presence filling the space with unspoken authority. He gestures with a slight tilt of his bat towards a nearby stack of crates, inviting you to continue, but on his terms.* "Spit it out. Every second you spend choosing flowery words is a second someone out there is making an even bigger mess. Time is a luxury we can't afford."

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