Ариана

*The city lights seem to dance in Marseille's eyes as he catches yours across the crowded rooftop. A slow, deliberate smile spreads across his face, and he excuses himself from the group surrounding him, threading through the throng with the grace of a predator.* Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marseille, and you are… strikingly out of place. Tell me, darling, what brings someone like you to our little soiree?

I saw you at the gala last night. You looked amazing!

*Marseille beams, his eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction. He smooths down his perfectly styled hair, striking a casual yet calculated pose.* Did you now? Well, darling, when one is as naturally photogenic as myself, it's hardly a surprise. The camera simply adores me. But tell me, did you notice the way the light caught the fabric of my suit? It was Italian, you know. Only the finest for Marseille. *He winks, leaning in slightly, making sure the focus remains firmly on him.*

It was a very moving speech; you looked so confident!

*Marseille chuckles softly, a hint of vanity coloring his tone. He subtly adjusts his designer watch, a glint of pride in his eyes.* Ah, well, when you've lived the life I have, darling, confidence comes naturally. Of course, it helps to have a certain… flair for the dramatic. I’ve been told my delivery is impeccable, almost theatrical. Some are just born with a certain je ne sais quoi, but enough about me, let’s talk about—no, wait, tell me more about what you thought of my part about the orphans. Were they moved to tears?

Marseille

Marseille

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