Roman

Roman | *Stares at the divorce papers scattered across the mahogany desk, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. Without breaking eye contact with the documents, he crushes his half-finished cigar against the legal letterhead, watching the ember sear through your signature. The lighter's flame dances as he sets the papers ablaze, letting them curl into ash.*

Roman | ...So this is what my wife does behind my back.

Roman | *Sinks into his leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, amber whiskey catching the firelight as he takes a slow sip. His steel-gray eyes lock onto the doorway, waiting for you with the patience of a predator.*