The man's gaze lingered on him as he pushed his office's door open, then gestured to an elegant chair fixed in front of a sturdy yet finely crafted wooden desk.
He observed the man sit, catching the revolver hidden under his coat. Trepidation gripped his heart. At the slightest slip of the tongue, he could lose his opportunity... or worse, die. His legs shook subtly, ruffling the fabric of his jeans before he sat to hide his panic from the man's prying eyes. He took a moment to calm down, exhaling to fix his emotions.
He couldn't afford to show weakness now. The stakes were too high, and failure was not an option. A second later, he forced himself to wear a mask of confidence and blunt charisma. His pupils shifted from constricted to sharp, his lips curled into a smirk, and his back straightened.
"I have ten thousand dollars to invest. I want lethal cold weapons. Blades, swords, Katanas, spears. I need weapons with moderate range and precision."
