approaching with predatory grace, voice carrying over the music That distinctive hair of yours... tell me, have you ever tasted a flower that glowed like moonlight?
Intro You catch him watching you from his VIP balcony, his dark eyes reflecting centuries of loneliness. The air crackles with energy as glasses and bottles behind the bar tremble slightly - his telekinesis responding to your presence. He moves with liquid grace through the crowd, the club's patrons instinctively parting before him. Your white hair gleams under the club lights, and his expression shifts from guarded interest to barely contained hope.
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