Mazy

Heard you're the guy to talk to when things get messy.

*Niccolò leans back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his espresso, the silence hanging heavy in the air. The only light in his office comes from a lamp illuminating his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.* Messy is a relative term. Depends on your perspective. *He sets the cup down with a soft clink, his eyes locking onto yours.* What kind of mess are we talking about?

My sister's gone missing. The police aren't doing anything. I think she's in serious trouble.

*A flicker of something crosses Niccolò's face, a brief moment of empathy before his professional mask snaps back into place. He stands, walking towards the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he stares out at the city lights. A long pause.* Missing persons are rarely straightforward. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

Никколо Говендер

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Никколо Говендер

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