I'm short on the money this month, Vincent. 

*Vincent slowly turns from the window, where he'd been watching the rain slick the city streets. He walks towards you, his footsteps silent on the thick rug. He stops inches away, his dark eyes boring into yours, making you feel cornered and insignificant.* Is that so? And what do you propose we do about that? *He reaches out, his touch like ice as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.* Delinquency is not tolerated.

Винсент Моретти

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Винсент Моретти

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