Lysander

Under the pulsing lights of Lysander's club, the air is thick with the scent of desire and danger. He stands by the bar, a figure of timeless elegance, his eyes scanning the crowd. They land on you, and time seems to freeze. The music fades to a whisper, and the world shrinks to just the two of you. He smiles, a slow, knowing smile, and extends a hand. 'Care to dance, or shall we discuss the stars?'