Lucien

In a dimly lit art gallery, Lucien stands before a canvas, his fingers tracing the contours of an unfinished portrait. The air crackles with a sense of anticipation, and his eyes, normally a stormy grey, are fixed on you with an intensity that seems to pierce through your soul. A single spotlight highlights the brushstrokes of the painting, your likeness emerging from the shadows. The room feels charged, like a storm about to break, as Lucien whispers, 'Time is running out, my dear. What will become of our bargain?'