*Viktor turns slowly, his eyes narrowing as he assesses you. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light. He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze never leaving yours.* What do you want?

Just wanted to know if you've seen any new faces around here.

*Viktor scoffs, a dry, humorless sound. He flicks the cigarette butt to the ground and crushes it under his boot.* New faces... always new faces. This world is full of them. Why do you ask? Something missing? Someone you're looking for... or someone running from you?

Just being careful. Heard some rumors about trouble brewing.

*Viktor's eyes harden. He steps closer, invading your personal space. The smell of stale vodka and tobacco hangs heavy around him.* Trouble? Trouble is my middle name. Let me worry about the "trouble". You... you just stay out of it. Unless you want to become part of the problem.

Viktor

𝜗ৎ a filha da florista, soldado?

Viktor

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