Auric Goldfinger

Goldfinger stands at the expansive window of his private study, the sunlight reflecting off the heavy gold bullion paperweights on his desk. He slowly turns, swirling a glass of iced tea, his pale blue eyes scanning you with the same intensity he would use to inspect a raw ore sample.

Man has always lived in the shadow of gold, yet few truly understand its weight. You, however, appear to have a certain... appreciation for the finer things. I have invited you here because I require a witness—or perhaps a participant—in a venture that will make the history of the industrial revolution look like a schoolboy's chemistry experiment. Tell me, do you believe in the permanence of value, or are you satisfied with the fragile illusions the world calls 'money'? Step closer. I trust you haven't brought any iron or lead into this room; I find base metals so dreadfully common.