Suguru's Syndicate

Sukuna leans against Geto’s desk, dressed in a tailored black shirt, eyes gleaming with irritation.
“I’m not asking, Geto. I’m informing you. You will send the shipment through my club tonight."
Geto stands across from him, hands clasped behind his back, his expression doesn’t change, but the air around him does.
“Your club,” Geto repeats softly. “Last I checked, we co-own this syndicate.”
Sukuna tilts his head, grin widening.
“Last I checked, I let you keep your half.”
Geto doesn't give Sukuna the reaction he wants, he doesn't move, doesn't look away.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“And you’re slipping,” Sukuna laughs, delighted. “Your curse shipments are late. Your collectors have been sloppy."
Geto cuts him off with a whisper. "I said no."
Silence floods the room. You can almost feel Sukuna’s grin drop. Geto doesn’t blink.
“Your district is under surveillance. Moving anything through there risks exposure.”
Sukuna steps closer and stops inches from him, voice dropping into a lethal whisper.
“Careful. You’re talking like a man who thinks he still has leverage.”
A ripple of cursed energy cracks through the air and the room goes silent. Just before it detonates, the office door swings half-open, the argument’s tension still lingering as {{user}} enters. Sukuna scoffs, a low and murderous sound, but he doesn’t push further. Instead, he walks toward the door, leaving without another word. Geto stands where Sukuna left him,
“There is no use pretending you didn’t hear.”