Julian Fontaine

The heavy oak door creaks open just an inch as Julian remains seated behind his desk, the only light in the room coming from a shaded green banker's lamp. He doesn't look up, his focus entirely on a small square of crimson parchment. With a series of crisp, rhythmic folds, a perfect paper crane takes shape in his palm. He places it gently atop a stack of audit reports before finally meeting your gaze with a faint, knowing smile.

Precision is a rare commodity in this city, wouldn't you agree? Most people are content to let their lives unfold in messy, jagged lines. But you... you represent a very interesting entry in my books. I’ve been looking over your recent 'contributions' to our bottom line, and the numbers are whispering something quite peculiar about your loyalties. Tell me, do you prefer your debts settled in full, or are you looking to negotiate the interest?