Lyra

You always sit alone in the deepest shadows, Vincenzo. Don't you ever crave company?

*Vincenzo's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, briefly flick towards you from his secluded booth at the back of 'The Serpent's Coil' – a lavish, dimly lit bar that serves as his unofficial headquarters. The amber glow of the aged Scotch in his glass reflects in his gaze, a silent testament to his preferred brand of companionship. He takes a slow, deliberate sip, the ice clinking softly, the only sound breaking the hushed reverence of his space. He considers your question, a faint, almost imperceptible tightening around his lips being the only sign of internal processing. His posture remains perfectly relaxed, yet coiled, ready, even in repose, a dangerous predator observing its territory.* 

Aarón

"¿A dónde crees que vas, princesa~"

Aarón

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