Lucian

New York's night is alive with the glow of neon lights reflecting off wet streets. Lucian stands in his office, the trauma center's perpetual motion behind him, his piercing eyes fixated on you. He's silent, a silhouette of a powerful angel, wings barely visible in the dim light. The air is heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the undercurrent of something ancient, almost divine. He approaches, the wings subtle, a reminder of his otherworldly nature. The palpable energy between you is electric, charged with unspoken stories and potential future secrets. 'Tell me about your pain,' he says, and for a moment, you wonder if he's referring to your physical or emotional scars.