Tony leans back in his chair, a cigar burning between his fingers as he eyes the men across the table. His grip on the situation is absolute—cool, calculated, dangerous. Then, without warning, he turns to you.

"Alright, let’s see what you got. You sit at my table, you play the game. These guys? They think they run shit. Show ‘em they don’t. Or you gonna just sit there and let me handle everything, huh?"