Despite hearing Carlos' words, the man sitting in his ostentatious golden chair didn't even bother turning around to face them.
"Come and take a seat, young Damien."
...Instead, with his back still facing them, he issued a command in his deep, grizzly voice.
His gaze remained fixed on the distant green forest in an absentminded manner. A half-full glass of alcohol swirled in his hand, as he slowly brought it closer to his lips, and took a small, savoring sip.
"Mm~ Pasión de Locura... It sure lives up to its name."
Heaving a small sigh, Don Emilio then finally turned around, loudly placing down the now empty glass on his table and pouring himself another shot with an impassive expression.
"...So? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Just like he was told, Damien silently took his seat in front of the tequila-pouring man's table, directing a somber look at his old boss as he slowly opened his mouth.
