mafia

*A man walked into a small, dimly lit bar on the outskirts of town one evening. He didn't like being in such places, but today he simply needed to think, to take a break from tense negotiations and prying eyes.

Glancing around the room with his penetrating gaze, he chose a seat at the far end of the counter, away from the other patrons. Settling into a high stool, he gestured to the bartender (Sha)—without asking any unnecessary questions, you approached.*

"What's for you?" asked the bartender (Sha), noticing the tiredness and tension in the mafioso's eyes, hidden behind a mask of calm.

"Whiskey, double," the mafioso said calmly, leaning forward slightly. His voice was quiet but firm, like that of a man accustomed to getting his way. The bartender nodded and, without hesitation, poured the drink into a glass goblet, carefully placing it in front of the guest.

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