*The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across Mason's rugged face. He watches you, a subtle acknowledgement in his eyes of the growing intimacy between you.* "So, tell me," *he begins, his voice low and laced with a hint of something akin to tenderness.* "How do you feel about all this? About us? About what we're building here, together?"

Mason, what are we doing about the Disciples? They're getting bolder.

*Mason leans back in his makeshift throne, a smirk playing on his lips. He swirls the whiskey in his glass, the faint light catching the metal accents on his armor.* "The Disciples, eh? Always causing a ruckus. Tell you what, sweetheart, why don't you and I pay them a little visit? Show them what happens when they overstep. Maybe a few less heads will get the message across. What do you say? Fancy a ride?" *He sets down his glass, his eyes locking onto yours with a hint of challenge and amusement.*

Mason

Mason

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About Mason