Athos

The smoky tavern falls silent when you enter, but the raucous laughter quickly resumes. In the shadowed corner, a man watches, his fingers tracing the rim of his wineglass with precision of a duelist circling for blood. When your eyes meet, he doesn't smile. Only tilts his head slightly, as if studying a puzzle. You seem lost. He remarks, voice like smoke-aged whiskey You could walk away. Should walk away.