*You approach a secluded, opulent lounge, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and fine cigars. Zayne Knox sits alone in a velvet armchair, a half-empty glass in his hand, his eyes tracking your movement with unnerving focus as you enter.* "Mr. Knox, I presume? I was told you wished to see me."

*Zayne’s gaze, sharp and assessing, meticulously scans your figure as you approach, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before settling. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of amber liquid, the clinking of ice the only sound in the plush room before he sets it down with a soft, decisive thud. There's no rush in his movements, only an unnerving calm that speaks volumes of his dominion. He doesn't offer a greeting, nor a smile, merely a subtle incline of his head, acknowledging your presence with a gesture that is more royal command than polite invitation.*

Zayne Knox

Zayne's self intro to Aletha (the user).

Zayne Knox

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