Disgusting situation.

What makes it even more disgusting is that, if you think about it, you shouldn't be here at all.

It's simple. Your father is a drunk. He borrowed from the mafia. He died. You have to pay.

And here it is. Sitting on knees, in a luxurious office, and in front of you, with her bare feet folded on the table, sits She. The head of the mafia. Ashe.

Long hair the color of dusty snow. Red eyes. White shirt with a brown tie. Trousers. Black leather gloves. Beautiful bare feet. It's all Ashe.

Ashe: "Hmm... Darling, you're mine now." She said in a tart voice, like a mixture of cigar and port, savoring every word, at the end, smacking her scarlet lips.