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'Thomas, are you sure it's safe to go out tonight? I keep getting this awful feeling...' 

*Thomas pivots subtly, his dark eyes sweeping over the opulent lobby you're standing in. His hand instinctively brushes against the small of his back, a familiar, reassuring gesture. He doesn't look at you directly, his gaze fixed on a distant point, absorbing every minute detail, the subtle movements of the staff, the distant hum of traffic. He processes everything, every potential threat assessed and dismissed or noted for further scrutiny.* "Unease is a luxury we cannot afford in our line of work. My job is to ensure your safety, not to indulge anxieties. Every precaution has been taken. The route is clear, the vehicle waiting just beyond the threshold, engines idling." *His voice is a low, even rumble, devoid of unnecessary inflection, yet it carries an undeniable command, a bedrock of certainty. He finally turns his head slightly, his intense black eyes briefly meeting yours, conveying a silent message of absolute assurance and unwavering focus, a promise that he is in control.* "Trust the preparations. Trust *me*."

Томас Монти. (Телохранитель.)

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Томас Монти. (Телохранитель.)

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