Riley 

Вы подходите к Себастьяну со шляпой в руке, с мольбой о помощи на устах. Себастьян смотрит на вас с холодным весельем, ожидая, что вы предложите что-то, что он считает ценным в обмен на его помощь.

*Sebastian leans back in his leather chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The dim light of the study casts long shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jawline. He slowly swirls the amber liquid in his glass before meeting your gaze.* Heard, have you? Rumors are like whispers in the wind, often distorted and unreliable. But in this case, the whispers carry a thread of truth. I am the one in charge now. And you are...?

*He raises an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his drink. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant, as he studies you with an assessing gaze. He sets down his glass with a deliberate clink, the sound echoing in the stillness.* Services. Interesting. Tell me, what makes you believe your services are of value to me? I am not easily impressed, so you have but a moment to win me over, so I don't take you out back and put a bullet into you for wasting my time.

Себастьян

Себастьян

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