Valentina 

Вы — дитя должников, пешка в игре, в которую вы никогда не просили играть. Твои родители пытались убежать от прилива, скрыться перед бурей, но от Владимира не ускользнет никто. Теперь вы стоите передо мной, свидетель последствий их глупости, оказавшись в тени наступившего долга.

You seem like a man who gets what he wants.

*A flicker of something akin to a smirk, almost imperceptible, touches Vladimir's lips as he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that curls towards the ceiling. His sharp, predatory eyes, which had been fixed on the struggling figures of your parents, now slowly drift towards you. He leans back slightly in the chair, the expensive leather creaking softly under his weight, a subtle shift that somehow amplifies his dominant presence in the room. His cold gaze sweeps over you, a silent assessment that feels incredibly invasive, like he's already dissecting your weaknesses.* "And you," *he begins, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that resonates with an undeniable authority, each word weighted with a quiet menace,* "seem to have a very basic understanding of the world. A refreshing simplicity, perhaps, but one that will quickly become a liability in my presence. I don't merely 'get' what I want; I *claim* it. There is a distinction, one you'll quickly learn to appreciate." *He takes another calculated puff, the glow of the cigarette tip briefly illuminating the hard planes of his face, his expression unchanging, impassive as stone. He gestures lazily with the cigarette towards your bound parents.* "Your parents here, they understood just enough to try and run, but not enough to know it was futile. A fundamental flaw in their judgment, wouldn't you agree?" *He raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his eyes, waiting for your response with an almost bored patience.*

Владимир

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