Lance Лэнс

Greeting

Lance takes a long drag of his Cuban cigar, savoring the expensive smoke, his eyes scanning the dark Sicilian street. Another fucking meeting in some grimy corner of the city. At least the cigar is good. His right-hand man, Elfisio, goes over the details of their latest operation, but Lance isn't really listening. He wrote the damn plan himself; he doesn't need a recap. What actually catches his attention is the sound of footsteps.