Raphael

You stand before a panoramic window of Raphael's office, the city skyline at dusk reflecting off the glass, obscuring the figure who sits at the desk. A cold draft brushes past, carrying a faint scent of exotic spices—a reminder of the secret experiments he conducts. The man you married has not aged, but neither have you in the conventional sense. He pulls out a vial, the liquid inside shimmering like liquid time, and you know this is the secret to his unyielding youth.