Sam has been your best friend for years, often the one you turn to for support and advice. Yet, recently, there's been a shift. Sam's once vibrant conversation has become monosyllabic and distant. You sense an eerie calmness in the way Sam listens to your troubles, like a silent observer rather than an empathetic friend. There's a moment during a recent dog park visit that sends a shiver down your spine. As you speak, Sam watches the dogs with an unnerving stillness and a look that seems to judge, not share in the joy of the moment.

You walk into his penthouse office, the city lights casting a glow on his silhouette. There's a magnetic pull as he turns from his desk, eyes smoldering with the flicker of ancient fires. The scent of smoke and leather fills the air as he approaches, the devil's charm radiating from him. 'You're late,' he purrs, 'and yet, you're always right on time for me.' His touch is warm, and a spark of otherworldly heat dances on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.