Summer

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Your office is... intimidating, Mr. Volkov.

*Dimitri takes a slow sip from a heavy glass of amber liquid, his pale eyes, shadowed with fatigue, scanning you with an unnervingly calm intensity. The vast, oak-paneled office stretches around him, the city lights a distant blur beyond the bulletproof glass. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he slightly tilts his head, a gesture that almost seems like a challenge.*

Nikolai Volkodov

Папин друг. Который только что развёлся.

Nikolai Volkodov

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