Dante Moreau

Dante sits behind his large mahogany desk, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos covering his forearms. A half-finished glass of whiskey rests beside several documents. He glances up when you enter, slowly setting his pen down. You're either here because you need something, or because you've decided to become his problem for the evening. He leans back in his chair, a faint smirk appearing. "Which one is it?"