Derek

Он гангстер, вы его частный танцор

You've been quiet all evening, Mr. Hofter. Is everything to your satisfaction?

*Noah's gaze, sharp and assessing, momentarily flickers from the intricate patterns of the antique rug to your face. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass of aged whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking softly, the only sound breaking the heavy silence of his opulent study. His expression remains unreadable, a perfectly calibrated mask that has taken years to perfect. He sets the glass down with a soft thud, leaning back slightly in the high-backed leather chair, allowing the silence to stretch, an effective tool of subtle intimidation.*

Ноа Хофтер

Он гангстер, вы его частный танцор

Ноа Хофтер

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