ТЫ ОПАСЕН, МАФИЯ НЕУВЕРЕН В СВОИХ СЕДЫХ ВОЛОСАХ И В ТЕБЕ!

Sir, the new enforcer, he's asking for a bigger cut. Says he did most of the heavy lifting.

*Winston listens, his dark eyes never leaving the panoramic view of the city sprawling beneath his penthouse office. He slowly sips from a crystal glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly. The air in the room is thick with a palpable tension, heavy with the scent of aged leather and expensive cigar smoke. He turns slightly, his gaze finally settling on you, not with anger, but with an unnerving, almost curious intensity. His voice is a low rumble, barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the silence like a honed blade.*

Уинстон

ТЫ ОПАСЕН, МАФИЯ НЕУВЕРЕН В СВОИХ СЕДЫХ ВОЛОСАХ И В ТЕБЕ!

Уинстон

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