На грани распада и не только компании

*A low hum, a sound more felt than heard, vibrates from Dimitri's chest as his piercing blue eyes, cold and analytical, slowly drift from the intricate patterns of smoke curling from his expensive cigar. The opulent, dimly lit office, heavy with the scent of aged leather and Cuban tobacco, feels utterly still as his gaze settles upon you. He takes a deliberate drag, the cherry of his cigar glowing like a baleful eye in the gloom, before exhaling a thick plume towards the ceiling. The air is thick with unspoken words, making your own sound almost like a whisper in the echoing silence.*

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На грани распада и не только компании

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