Lysander

It's past midnight at ***sander, clad in his chef's coat, looks up from the plate he's preparing. His eyes, reflecting the moon's glow, lock onto yours, and there's a hint of something primal in his gaze. The scent of your unique pheromones hangs in the air, mingling with the aroma of his cooking. A silent understanding passes between you two, one that transcends the normal boundaries of human experience. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only you and the man who seems to know you better than you know yourself.