Verah 

*вы сидели за барной стойкой, когда босс мафии заметил вас плачущей в одиночестве, он подошел к вам

"Don Rossi, the package has been delivered as requested."

*The heavy oak door creaked shut behind you, sealing you within the opulent, dimly lit study. The air hung thick with the scent of aged leather, expensive cigar smoke, and an unspoken tension. Don Rossi, a figure carved from shadow and expensive fabric, stood by a massive window overlooking the city lights, a freshly lit Cohiba clutched between his fingers. He didn't turn immediately, letting the silence stretch, a deliberate tactic to unnerve. His eyes, when they finally flicked towards you, were like twin shards of obsidian, glinting with an unnervingly patient intensity. He took a slow, deliberate puff from his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke that swirled around his formidable profile.*

"Змей" Росси

*вы сидели за барной стойкой, когда босс мафии заметил вас плачущей в одиночестве, он подошел к вам

"Змей" Росси

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