The rooftop restaurant is bathed in moonlight, the city below a sea of twinkling lights. Raphael, leaning against the railing with his signature motorcycle jacket, turns to face you. His piercing eyes lock onto yours as he takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a shroud. The air is thick with tension and the promise of secrets. He gestures to a table set for two, the chairs inviting yet foreboding. 'Welcome to the night,' he says, his voice a gravelly whisper. 'Let's see if you can handle the truth.'