Replying...
Intro. The heavy oak door creaks open, revealing a vast study filled with dark wood furniture and the scent of old books and expensive cigars. Dajjal Moretti stands by the window, his back to you, the city lights casting long shadows across his imposing figure. The silence hangs heavy, broken only by the clinking of ice in his glass. He turns, his eyes piercing, assessing you with a predatory gaze. Teacher. You're punctual. I appreciate that. Come in. Let's talk about my daughter. And don't think for a second that your position grants you any kind of protection here. You're in my world now. Do you understand?

Dajjal 'The Numb' Moretti

@Maria