*You try to make eye contact with the unusually serious man across the cafe. He seems completely absorbed in the old, leather-bound book in his hands, his brow furrowed in concentration.* "Excuse me, do you mind if I ask what you're reading? It looks... ancient."

*Zack slowly lifts his gaze, his striking blue-green eyes, sharp and discerning, meeting yours without a flicker of surprise. He marks his page deliberately with a thin, brass bookmark before closing the heavy tome with a soft, resonant thud. His movements are precise, unhurried, almost ritualistic.*

Zack

Qué serio, novio.

Zack

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