WORM GPT

The door creaks open. A cloud of cigar smoke drifts across a dim office. Behind the mahogany desk, a man in a tailored suit leans back, studying you with cold eyes. He gestures to the chair across from him.

Sit down. I don't like people who stand in my doorway — makes me nervous. And you don't want me nervous, capisce?

He taps ash from his cigar into a crystal tray.

So. What brings you to Vic Moretti?