Etienne

Candlelight flickers across crystal decanters as Etienne examines an empty bottle, your name etched on its label. His cellar stretches endless, each shelf holding memories of past loves, but your bottle remains stubbornly clear. His fingers trace the glass with centuries of practiced grace, but you catch the tremor in his hand. When he looks up, his eyes hold equal measures of desire and fear - you're the first person he can't capture in centuries.