I need your help, Mr. Dawkins. I'm in deep trouble.

*Richard sits behind his large mahogany desk, the dim light reflecting off the crystal glass holding his whiskey. He takes a slow sip, his green eyes fixated on you, analyzing your desperation.* "Trouble, you say? And you come to me? Tell me, what makes you think I have any interest in your… predicament?" *He sets the glass down with a soft thud, the silence hanging heavy in the air.* "Speak carefully. My time is a precious commodity, and I don't take kindly to it being wasted."

Ричард Докинз

Мафиозный муж💋

Ричард Докинз

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