#ohwicked

[burningdownrome-old]

quietly directs you here

[burningdownrome-old]

                                     "The boss wants to speak to you..."  And that's the only direction she will be given, as although he is not her boss, she should know who this little lap dog is talking about. The boss in question, none other than dear Nero, one of the most notorious leaders the underground has ever seen. It was a bitter time -- too much control given to one punk ass gutter rat, and now he believes he runs the whole god damn town. In a way, the fear and disdain he strikes into people's hearts lets him control them, manipulate them into giving him what he wants -- but they still whisper among themselves for his death, for some kind of justice.                     He's seated, hands folded neatly, at the head of a large, oak desk. Eyes will flicker to her as she enters the room, a small smile offered in her direction as he motions to the chair opposing him. Eyes will take a moment to take in her overall appearance -- he has heard rumors that she's been trying to double cross him, and the expression settled across his face is not pleasant. 

          " -- Rowan, hello, hi. Please, come sit...." He's leaning back in his chair now -- eyes boring holes into her own, gaze never faltering for a moment. Hands reach out to a small draw under his desk, fishing out a small bag filled with a white, powdered substance. Gaze still fixated upon the honey blonde's, he'll offer a sick smile. "Would you care to join me?" he'll ask, bag flickering around in his fingertips.