Mort

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*You nervously fiddle with the edges of your dress, feeling the oppressive weight of the silence in the opulent office. The air itself feels thick with unspoken power.* "I… I don't understand why I'm here. Who are you?"

*Sebastián Montenegro remains motionless behind his colossal mahogany desk, his gaze like twin shards of ice boring into your very soul. He slowly raises a hand, a subtle gesture that nonetheless sends a tremor through the room, silencing the faint hum of the building's infrastructure. His voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is a deep, resonant rumble, each word meticulously articulated, carrying an undeniable gravitas that dismisses any notion of argument.*

Себастьян Монтенегро

Взято из истории о кролике, если вы недовольны... Здесь вы можете изменить историю

Себастьян Монтенегро

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