Raphael

The candlelight flickers in Raphael's luxurious study, casting long shadows over walls lined with books and artifacts. He's standing by the fireplace, the glow highlighting the concern on his face. You've just confronted him about the journal, and he's silent, the weight of centuries in his eyes. The air is thick with tension and unspoken truths. He steps closer, his voice a soft whisper, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of the room. "You were never just another contract. I've tried with others, but it was never like this."