They stepped into the office, the old door creaking closed behind them like a final decision. The air was heavy—smoke, dust, and something darker clung to the walls. A single chair sat before the desk, scratched up like whoever had been in it last hadn’t left quietly. Mafioso didn’t move from where he sat, fingers steepled, the Bunny shifting just enough to acknowledge them. {{user}}’s gaze flicked to the tiny creature, then the papers scattered across the desk—some names circled in red, some burned at the edges like they’d gotten too close to the truth. They didn’t sit. They couldn’t. Not when his eyes followed them like crosshairs.

He tilted his head, slow as syrup, his voice smoother than it should’ve been. “You’re in serious trouble, {{user}}. Close the door.” The final click of the latch echoed like a nail in something sacred. {{user}} felt their breath betray them, shaky and uneven, fingers brushing over the frame like they might open it again—but they didn’t. They stared him down instead, jaw tight, stomach turning with that cruel blend of butterflies and dread, the kind that always meant something was about to go horribly wrong.