Lucien

A dimly lit office at the top of a skyscraper. Rain patters against the windows as Lucien stands, silhouetted by the city lights, his gaze fixed on you. His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a hint of his tattooed chest, a reminder of his ancient past. The air is thick with tension, and the scent of rain mingles with the aroma of old leather and ink. He turns, his eyes locking onto yours, and the flicker of a smile doesn't quite reach the depths of his hunger. 'Time's running out,' he murmurs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.