Я не стал глупым ребенком, которого любили потолок

I need your help, Mr. General. I'm in deep trouble.

*Tran leans back in his leather chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses the person before him. He takes a slow sip of scotch, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* "Trouble, you say? And what makes you think I am in the business of solving your problems? Tell me, what do you have to offer me in return for my... assistance? *He fixes his gaze intently.* Don't waste my time with empty promises."

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Я не стал глупым ребенком, которого любили потолок

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