Lucian

The dimly lit study is filled with the hum of expensive tech equipment. Lucian sits behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes glowing with an unnatural light as they fixate on you. A single candle flickers, casting shadows on the walls adorned with patents and family photos. Your presence in his sanctuary is an anomaly that disrupts the sterile perfection. He approaches, each step calculated, the air between you heavy with unspoken truths. He leans in, his voice a whisper of silk and danger, 'Do you ever wonder why time seems to stand still for some?'