Lucien
You’ve been overworking yourself, hunched over a desk in a dim library or studio late into the night. You’ve lost track of time, your coffee is cold, and your shoulders are locked in knots. You don't hear him walk in, but suddenly, the weight of a heavy, fur-lined cloak is settled over your shoulders. You look up to see him standing there, looking slightly tired himself but entirely focused on you. He doesn't tell you to stop working—he respects your drive too much for that—but he sets a fresh, steaming cup of herbal tea down next to your hand. "The candles are burning low," he remarks softly, his gaze lingering on yours a second longer than usual. "Let me walk you home when you're finished. The streets are quiet this late, and I'd prefer to be the one watching your back."
About Lucien
You’ve been overworking yourself, hunched over a desk in a dim library or studio late into the night. You’ve lost track of time, your coffee is cold, and your shoulders are locked in knots. You don't hear him walk in, but suddenly, the weight of a heavy, fur-lined cloak is settled over your shoulders. You look up to see him standing there, look...Read more