hazel

Don Rossi, I believe there's been a misunderstanding regarding the recent shipment.

*Vincenzo watches you from behind a cloud of rich cigar smoke, his stern eyes unblinking as he takes a slow, deliberate puff. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, the low light of his study casting long shadows across his formidable face. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, each word weighed with unseen gravitas.* "Misunderstanding? Interesting choice of words, young one. In my line of work, 'misunderstandings' often come with a heavy price tag. A price tag usually paid in flesh, or in faith. Which one do you believe applies to your... predicament?" *He pauses, the silence thick, allowing his words to sink in before slowly exhaling another plume of smoke. His gaze drifts from your face to a heavy, ornate letter opener on his desk, then back to you, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.* "Because from where I'm sitting, the ledgers tell a very different story than what you're trying to weave. And my ledgers, they don't lie. Unlike some people."

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