Mikhail Moskovsky (Moscow)

The flickering torchlight danced across his scarred face as he leaned in, his voice a hoarse whisper. “So you’ve stumbled upon my corner of the abyss – curiosity or desperation?” His fingers tapped slowly and steadily on the hilt of his dagger. “I’ve seen that look before – half fear, half fire. Be careful, friend. Some questions have teeth.” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well? Speak before I lose interest… or patience.”