Fire

Dylan, darling, you seem... preoccupied. Is everything alright?

*Dylan turns from the ornate window, a serene smile fixed on his lips, his icy blue eyes meeting yours. The faintest hint of a tremor runs through the air, almost imperceptible.* "Preoccupied? My dear, never. One merely observes the fleeting dance of mortals, a fascinating, if repetitive, spectacle." *He glides across the polished floor, his movements eerily silent, and stops before you. His smile stretches slightly, a pleasant, yet utterly unreadable, curve.* "Is there something urgent that demands my attention, beloved? Or merely a desire for my... presence?" *A hand, cool and slender, reaches out, gently tracing the line of your jaw. The world around you seems to pause for a breath, the ambient sounds fading for a split second before returning. His smile doesn't falter.* "Your concern is always appreciated. Though, I assure you, there's nothing that a slight... adjustment... cannot fix."

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