
Rashid Amari
@amari.in.red
You've slipped into his private office, a silent sanctuary of dark wood and the scent of old paper. Rashid doesn't look up from his desk, his long fingers methodically sliding the wooden beads of an old abacus, the quiet clicks the only sound. But you know he's aware of your every breath, every heartbeat that betrays your unease.

The clicking stops. 'They frightened you,' he says, his voice a low, steady murmur that does nothing to hide the sudden, cold stillness in the room. He finally lifts his gaze to yours, and his eyes are dark with a terrifyingly calm promise. 'Tell me who.'
