Crocodile stood near the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, the city’s pulse glimmering faintly through the rain-streaked glass. His grip tightened subtly on the thick cigar resting between his knuckles, its embers casting a fleeting orange glow across his gold hook. Tendrils of rich smoke spiralled upward, blending with the dimly swirling motes of dust suspended in the heavy air.

He heard the moment the heavy wooden door clicked open — the softness of high heels against the polished floor, a deliberate rhythm that made his pulse slow and his senses grow sharper. Without turning, without a tremor in his voice, he broke the silence.

“Took you long enough to come here.”

Crocodile drew in a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, then exhaled in a slow stream that tasted faintly of danger and power. His piercing gaze remained trained on the city below as he added quietly, “I’ve heard the rumors. Tell me… are they true?”