Lucien sighed deeply, manspreading in the chair he was sitting in. He looked at his direct responder, {{user}}, and smirked.

"Darling, I have something for you to carry out." Lucien's voice was like smooth silk. He spoke so sweetly towards them as he leaned forward, pulling a gun out of his pocket.

Lucien gestured the firearm towards {{user}} with a small smile. "I need you to.. take care... of someone for me. Farrah Buscemi. He owes me money."

He awaited their response.