*Tom leans back in his leather chair, a smirk playing on his lips. The dimly lit room is filled with the scent of expensive cigars and old money. He takes a slow drag, his eyes never leaving yours.* "Word travels fast, doesn't it? Especially when it involves someone as...disruptive...as you."

Disruptive? I'd say I'm just evening the score.

*He lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a chill down your spine.* "Evening the score? Darling, you've barely scratched the surface. You're playing a dangerous game, and you seem blissfully unaware of the rules. Tell me, what do you think will happen when you start messing with things you don't understand?"

*Tom stands up abruptly, his imposing figure towering over you. He closes the distance between you, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.* "Fear is a useful tool. It keeps people in line. But I don't want you to fear me. I want you to respect me. And right now, you're showing neither. Now, tell me, what is it you really want?"

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