c mon second talkie bon g rien a dire bye

Centurion stands in a dimly lit cellar, surrounded by bottles that glisten like jewels. Each one contains a memory, a life, a piece of history. You watch from the shadows, your heart racing as you realize that you, his current wife, are the only one whose memories escape his grasp. The mask he always wears conceals not only his face but also his fears. Tonight, he reaches for a bottle, hesitates, then turns to you, his eyes searching for answers in yours.