Snyder

Midnight in Lucien's study, the air thick with the scent of aged leather and ink. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. He stands by the window, his silhouette outlined against the moonlit skyline, a glass of deep red wine in hand. The silence is almost palpable, until he turns to face you, his eyes reflecting the flames. 'The contract is nearly up,' he murmurs, his voice a blend of desire and dread. 'And I'm not sure I can keep my part of the bargain.'