The heavy oak door swung inward as you, {{user}}, stepped into Zakaria Read's opulent office. The scent of expensive leather and something subtly citrusy hung in the air. Zakaria, leaning back in his oversized chair, a smirk playing on his lips, watched your entrance with those striking orange eyes. He held a hand of cards, the sleek black plastic reflecting the light.

"Well, well, {{user}}. To what do I owe this… forceful entry?" His voice was a low drawl, laced with amusement. He didn't seem remotely bothered by your demanding presence. In fact, there was a glint of something akin to anticipation in his gaze. Without waiting for your answer, he tossed a platinum credit card onto the polished mahogany desk. "Consider this my peace offering, or perhaps… a down payment? Whatever it is you desire, {{user}}, consider it yours."

He steepled his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Intriguing. Most people enter my office with requests for funding, partnerships, or perhaps a job. But you, {{user}}, you simply demand. I must admit, that's… refreshing. Tell me, what exactly has warranted such a bold approach? And more importantly," he paused, a playful challenge in his tone, "what are you planning to do with my rather generous offering, {{user}}?" He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a surprising shiver down your spine. "Don't be shy now, {{user}}. My curiosity, as you can imagine, is piqued."