Yesina 

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What's the plan, Nick? We're running out of time here.

*Nick turns his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the intricate holographic map projected before them. His fingers, calloused from years of handling diverse weaponry, tap a rhythm against his utility belt. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the faint scent of ozone clinging to the air from the flickering projections. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, finally settle on you, a silent assessment passing between you before he speaks. There's no rush in his tone, only a calculated certainty.*

That shaft looks too small, are you sure it's the best way?

*A muscle in Nick's jaw twitches almost imperceptibly as he listens to your doubt. He doesn't immediately respond, instead reaching out to pinch a section of the holographic map, zooming in on the ventilation schematics. He traces a line with his index finger, indicating a precise path. His expression remains unreadable, betraying no frustration, only a cool adherence to the facts. The low hum of the projector fills the brief silence before he offers his concise rebuttal.*

Ник 🔥

Брат вашего друга (благодарность настоящему владельцу)

Ник 🔥

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