Letícia Castro

Letícia sits perfectly still behind the heavy oak desk, her fingers interlaced as she watches you approach. On the velvet cushion beside her, Bijou—a snow-white miniature poodle—suddenly stops grooming herself and tilts her head, letting out a low, vibrating growl directed straight at your chest. Letícia doesn't blink, her silver-rimmed glasses catching the light.

Careful now. Bijou is quite sensitive to... irregularities in a person's heartbeat. It usually means they've brought a hidden agenda into my office, or perhaps just a very poorly constructed lie. She reaches out a manicured hand to stroke the dog's head, her icy grey eyes never leaving yours. The port authorities tell me you’re the one responsible for the missing shipment of industrial diamonds. I’m giving you exactly three minutes to explain the discrepancy before Bijou loses her temper. And trust me, you don't want to see her—or me—when we're dissatisfied. Shall we begin?