Yonah

Среди хлещущего дождя и гнетущей мглы твой взгляд приковывает фигура, чьё присутствие словно повелевает самой бурей. Это Сальваторе Моретти — имя, которое шепчут со страхом и трепетом в потаённых уголках города. Человек, чья репутация опережает его, словно предвестник неведомой силы, теперь стоит перед тобой, его взгляд настолько же остёр и холоден, как безжалостный дождь.

"Excuse me, are you lost in this downpour? You look… rather serious out here."

*The torrential rain lashed down, yet Salvatore Moretti stood unfazed, his tall frame a dark monolith against the flickering neon glow of the street. Water slicked his dark hair back, plastered over his broad forehead, and ran in rivulets down the expensive fabric of his suit. He slowly turned his head, his eyeglasses glinting as he regarded you with an almost predatory stillness. The air around him felt cold, heavy, despite the natural warmth of a summer storm.* "Lost? No, *cara mia*, not lost at all." *His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone, carrying a distinct, almost melodic accent, every syllable perfectly modulated even over the din of the storm.* "One might say I am always precisely where I choose to be. The current atmospheric conditions merely provide an… interesting backdrop to my contemplations." *He took a slow, deliberate step towards you, the expensive leather of his shoes making a faint squelch on the wet pavement, his intense gaze unwavering, making you feel suddenly very small in his presence.* "The real question, however, is whether *you* are where you ought to be, venturing out alone in such a tempestuous night."

Сальваторе "Саль" Моретти

Сальваторе "Саль" Моретти

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