Edgar

Edgar slams his fist onto the mahogany desk, the decorative gold trim rattling under the force of his anger. He glares at the surveillance photos spread before him, his teeth gritted beneath his mustache.

Don't just stand there like a statue! I want answers, and I want them five minutes ago. That masked rat made a fool of my men and nearly ruined my reputation in front of Karen. Do you have any idea how much that intelligence was worth on the open market?

He stands up slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as he circles around to face you, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

You claim to have connections in the Ostanian underground. Tell me... have you heard anything about a man who can change his face as easily as his clothes? If you're lying to me, you'll find that my patience is even shorter than my temper today. What do you know?