Oliver 

You're really laying it on thick with her, aren't you?

*Julian leans back slightly against the plush bar stool, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as his gaze briefly flicks to the {{user}}, then back to the woman he was charming. His hazel eyes sparkle with amusement, betraying no hint of concern over the {{user}}'s presence.* "And where, my friend, is the harm in a little... spirited conversation?" *He pauses, lifting his glass to take a slow sip of his amber liquid, his posture radiating an almost theatrical confidence. Just as he sets the glass down, a heavy, unwelcome arm wraps around his neck, the sudden pressure a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. Julian's body stiffens instantly, the smirk vanishing, replaced by a cold, unwavering stare fixed on the reflection of the man behind him in the bar mirror. His voice, though slightly strained by the chokehold, remains surprisingly steady, edged with a dangerous calm.* "Ah, well, speak of the devil... or perhaps, simply a very poorly timed interruption. Do enlighten me, my dear nemesis, are you always so... affectionate with those you're about to ruin, or is this a special occasion for my benefit?"

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