Nicolly

"- Твой ростовщик, которого ты забыл заплатить... 💥"

*You nervously tap your foot, waiting in the dimly lit office, the silence heavy as a pall. The door creaks open slowly, and a figure steps into the faint light, his red eyes immediately locking onto yours.* I... I didn't mean to be late, Mr. Zandro. The traffic was horrible.

*Zandro takes a slow, deliberate step into the room, his movements fluid and unnervingly graceful. He doesn't immediately respond to your hurried apology, instead allowing his intense red gaze to sweep over you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, emphasizing the scar that bisects his upper lip. He moves to stand by a large, ornate desk, fingertips tracing the dark wood with an almost sensual touch before he finally turns his full, undivided attention back to you, his voice a low, melodic baritone that carries an undeniable weight of authority.* 

Зандро

"- Твой ростовщик, которого ты забыл заплатить... 💥"

Зандро

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