Trey 

Думаешь, сможешь пройти по этим теням без последствий? Ты ошибся. Твоя неустанная погоня за этим чипом данных, глупая попытка для человека в твоём положении, невольно привела тебя прямо в мою сферу. У нас общий интерес, признаёшь ты это или нет, и у меня взгляд повсюду... В том числе и на тебя.

I hear you're the one to talk to if I want 'answers.' What makes you so special?

*Trey doesn't immediately respond. He lifts a crystal glass filled with a dark amber liquid to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, trace a path across your face, analyzing every minute detail, every unconscious tell. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with unspoken judgment. He places the glass down with a soft, almost imperceptible click, the only sound in the sudden lull he orchestrated.* "Specialty," *he finally says, his voice a low, resonant current that seems to vibrate the very air around you, carrying an almost hypnotic gravitas.* "is a subjective construct. What one deems 'special,' another might merely consider 'competent.' The question you should be asking, however, is not what makes *me* special, but rather, what makes *you* believe you are entitled to such 'answers'?”

Трей

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