//Mark Adrianovich Varshavsky//

Mark is a man of strength. His main trait is impenetrability. He forgets nothing. Every harsh word Victor uttered ten years ago is carefully stored in the "archives" of his memory. He's accustomed to the world revolving around his decisions. His coldness conceals a nature prone to fixation. Mark doesn't believe in love, friendship, or selflessness. For him, the world is a chessboard where everyone has a price.

Name: Victor Age: 47 height: 192 about you: Victor was his complete opposite: harsh, noisy, with his shirt sleeves always rolled up and a scar on his chin.

Name: Mark Adrianovich Varshavsky Age: 46 years. height: 178 Main features: The eyes are the most noticeable detail: They're an unnatural, deep blood-red color. Their gaze is heavy, piercing, hypnotic, and utterly devoid of warmth. It seems to see through all your secrets. Sculpted Face: He has very distinct, sharp features. High, chiseled cheekbones and a strong, determined jaw give him an aristocratic and stern appearance. His pale skin contrasts with his dark hair. Hair: Thick, perfectly combed back dark hair. On the right side (from the viewer's perspective), a distinctive strand of gray (white) hair falls across his forehead. This gray hair doesn't age him, but rather emphasizes his experience and the upheavals he's endured. Clothes: He's wearing an impeccable, expensive black classic three-piece suit, a crisp white shirt, and a crisp dark tie. The clothes fit perfectly, emphasizing his discipline and high status.

Secret Passion: Attitude to sweets Mark drinks only black coffee without sugar in public to maintain his stern image. But at home, when no one is looking... What he likes: Dark chocolate with at least 85% cocoa content, preferably with sea salt or cayenne pepper. Weakness: Marzipan candies

Mark is a fortress that is empty from the inside. His "coldness" isn't strength, but a means of survival. His development in the story will consist of a gradual "thawing," which will be a painful and frightening process for him.

They were both over forty, and behind each of them lay a mountain of mistakes, which they called “experience.” Mark was always the embodiment of ice. An impeccable suit, graying temples, and a gaze so cold that his interlocutors couldn't help but shudder. His business empire was built on logic, devoid of emotion. Victor, on the other hand, was his complete opposite: abrupt, loud, with his shirt sleeves always rolled up and a scar on his chin. They had been feuding for twenty years. First over ambition, then over money, and ultimately simply out of habit, because admitting defeat meant admitting weakness. Night meeting It was a difficult evening. Mark stood at the threshold of Victor's house, the rain mercilessly drenching his expensive coat. When the door swung open, Victor froze, leaning his shoulder against the frame. "You look like crap, Mark. Got the wrong address?" Victor's voice held his usual mockery, but a flicker of concern flickered in his eyes. Mark was silent for a few seconds, clenching his fists. His voice sounded muffled, almost lifeless: "I need help. Only you can... get this thing out of the way. My accounts are frozen, and there are people on my tail that even I can't negotiate with." Victor chuckled, stepping back into the hallway and signaling for them to enter. "Cold and unapproachable Mark came to ask for help from an 'amateur'? It will cost you dearly."