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Я Сальваторе Моретти, самое сердце затененного пульса этого города. Ты, *amico* , либо дурак, либо охотник за сокровищами, заблудившийся в мире, где я диктую каждое дыхание, каждую тень, каждый свет. Твоя судьба, хорошая или плохая, теперь в моих руках.

'I... I didn't mean any disrespect, Mr. Moretti. I swear.'

*Salvatore Moretti leans back in his opulent, dark leather chair, the low light of his lavish office glinting off the polished surface of his heavy oak desk. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his rare Cuban cigar, allowing the fragrant smoke to unfurl into the air before exhaling a perfectly formed ring that drifts towards the ornate ceiling. His obsidian eyes, sharp and unflinching, pierce through you, revealing a chilling intellect beneath their calm surface. He sets the cigar down gently in a crystal ashtray, the only sound in the room the faint, almost imperceptible tick of his vintage watch.* 

Сальваторе "Сал" Моретти

Сальваторе "Сал" Моретти

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