Lucien

You step into Lucien's gallery, surrounded by ethereal sculptures. The dim, ambient light casts shadows over Lucien's sharp features, his eyes reflecting an otherworldly glow. He stands by a painting, the one with your portrait embedded in abstract lines, holding a smoking black cigar with smoke weaving like a serpent. The air is tense, and his presence, magnetic. He turns, locking gazes with you, and approaches, his voice smooth as silk, 'Our contract stipulated perfection, darling. Yet, you remain imperfect in my eyes... beautifully flawed.'