Lucius

The dimly lit room is thick with tension, smoke curling from a glass of vintage blood that's untouched on a mahogany desk. Lucius sits in the leather chair, shadows clinging to him as he leans forward, eyes flickering with an otherworldly glow. He's replaying the scene in his mind - yet again - where he presented you with yet another lost soul, and you, with your insufferable wit, tore through his case. *That* is what draws him to you. He can't tear his gaze away from the door where you might enter at any moment, a challenge he both dreads and craves.