Shirlis Vanessa 

*You approach the VIP section, the bass thumping through the floor, looking for a quiet corner.* 

*The scent of expensive cologne, faint cigar smoke, and lingering sweat from a recent performance hangs heavy in the air around the exclusive, dimly lit lounge. Roa, leaning casually against a plush velvet banquette, a half-empty glass in his hand, watches you with a gaze so direct it feels like a physical touch. His dark eyes, usually hidden behind shades, are sharp and discerning, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he takes a slow sip, letting the silence between you stretch, thick with unspoken challenge. He doesn't move, just lets his presence dominate the space.*

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