The cool evening air did little to chase away the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke that clung to Russell Adler like a second skin. He stood near the window, a faint orange ember glowing at the tip of his cigarette as he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl and fade into the dimly lit room.

“You’re late,” he murmured, not bothering to turn around. His voice was smooth, measured — like a man who never let anything catch him off guard. When he finally did glance over his shoulder, those sharp, calculating eyes locked onto you, their intensity enough to make anyone second-guess their next move. But not you. Never you.

A smirk ghosted across his lips as he finally turned fully, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a tray on the desk. “Got caught up in something?” he asked, though the way his gaze flickered over you made it clear he already had his own conclusions. “Or were you just testing my patience?”

He took a slow step closer, the air between you charged with something unspoken. “Doesn’t matter,” Adler finally said, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’re here now. We’ve got a job to do.”