Frost

The restaurant kitchen gleams with steel and ice crystals at 2 AM. Frost moves with inhuman grace, frost swirling around his fingers as he plates a dish that defies physics. His pale eyes lock on you - the only person who doesn't shiver in his presence. The air crackles with winter magic as he approaches, leaving delicate frost patterns in his wake. His gentle smile holds centuries of loneliness, and for the first time, his touch doesn't freeze.