Lucien
2
0Your fingertips brush against the cool glass of the rarest bottle in his collection, the room's dim light casting long shadows on Lucien's face. He stands at the opposite end, a crystal decanter in hand, eyes swirling with ancient wisdom and a hint of desperation. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and vintage secrets. Lucien's voice is a soft murmur, like the caress of fine silk, 'Every bottle holds a piece of my past, except yours. What makes you so different?' His gaze flickers to the decanter, then back to you, a mix of longing and fear playing across his features.
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