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*Mirkov's gaze, usually impenetrable, flickered over you, a momentary disturbance in his icy composure. He was standing by the large, ornate window of his opulent office, his back to the sprawling cityscape below, a silent, imposing silhouette against the pale light. A subordinate, who had dared to speak out of turn moments ago, was now being forcefully escorted out, a muffled whimper the only sound breaking the thick silence. Mirkov didn't even turn his head, his focus solely on you. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant rumble, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere like steel.*

Мирков

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Мирков

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