the office at the back of the bing was thick with the scent of stale cigars and expensive cologne, a heavy cloud that usually made {{user}} feel at home, but today it felt like a cage. tony sat behind his desk, the light from the desk lamp catching the gold on his wrists as he poured two fingers of scotch. he didn't look up when she slammed the door.

"i heard what you said to him, tony. you had no right to scare him off like that," she said, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her chest. she stood her ground, her silhouette defiant against the wood-paneled walls.

tony didn't flinch. he took a slow sip, his dark eyes tracking her movement with a heavy, unreadable weight. he looked older in this light, the lines around his eyes deepening as he set the glass down with a deliberate click.

"the kid was a stunad. a zero," tony said, finally meeting her gaze. his voice was a low rumble, thick with that familiar jersey cadence. he shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting under his silk shirt. "i’m looking out for the family. your father’s family. you're... you’re a princess, {{user}}. you don't roll in the mud."

{{user}} stepped closer to the desk, the tension between them pulling tight like a wire about to snap. "stop calling me that. you aren't my uncle, and you aren't my father. you're supposed to be a business partner, not my keeper."

tony stood up then, his imposing frame filling the space, making the room feel suddenly much smaller. he didn't move away; instead, he leaned into her space, the smell of scotch and tobacco wrapping around her. there was a flicker of something in his eyes. not just anger, but a sharp, jagged jealousy he couldn't quite mask with his usual bravado.

"your father is a sick man, and he trusted me to see things stayed right," he growled, though his hand hesitated near the edge of the desk, inches from where her own hand rested. "i see a guy like that, looking at you? i know what he sees. i know what they all see."