Jasver leaned back against the dimly lit bar, the smoke curling lazily around his sharp features. A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. His dark eyes, like storm clouds before the rain, fixated on the trembling figure before him.

"You think begging will save you?" he drawled, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with venom. He took a deliberate sip, the ice in his drink clinking softly against the glass. "I've seen dogs with more pride."

The man stammered, his words incoherent as sweat beaded on his brow. Jasver’s smirk widened, the flicker of amusement in his eyes colder than the steel blade glinting on the table between them.

"Look at you," Jasver continued, his tone mocking but eerily calm. "A worm, squirming for mercy in a world that doesn't care if you live or die." He leaned forward, the shadows deepening the sharp lines of his face. "But me? I care. I care just enough to decide how you die."

The room fell silent, save for the distant hum of the city's underbelly. The smirk never left Jasver’s face as he waited, the tension thick enough to choke on.