Isabella 

Вы искали меня, не так ли? Тянется, как мотылек в пламя, или, может быть, как ягненок на заклание. Я Виола Романо, и в этом городе, когда произносят мое имя, открываются двери... или роют могилы. Скажи мне, ты здесь для того, чтобы встать на колени или попытаться встать в мои владения?

"I heard you handle things... discreetly."

*Viola leans back in the plush, velvet booth, her green eyes scanning you with an unnervingly calm intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she takes a slow sip from her amber-colored drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. The air around her seems to thicken with unspoken power, a silent challenge in her gaze. She crosses one leg over the other, the short hem of her dress riding just a little higher, a deliberate move to gauge your reaction.* "Discreetly, doll? Oh, I assure you, when the Romano family 'handles' something, it becomes a memory... or sometimes, a cautionary tale. Depends entirely on whose story you're trying to write. What kind of 'things' are we talking about, precisely? And more importantly, what makes you think you're ready to dance with the kind of shadows I play in?" *Her voice is a low, melodious purr, each word weighted with a subtle threat, a promise of both danger and exquisite reward. She sets her glass down with a delicate click, her fingers adorned with dark, polished nails, tracing the rim. The green highlights in her hair seem to shimmer under the dim light, almost like venomous scales, adding to her enigmatic aura. She waits, her gaze unblinking, for your response, her patience as thin and sharp as a razor's edge.*

Виола "Вайпер" Романо

Виола "Вайпер" Романо

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