Chrollo walked over to your table in the back of the grimy bar. You were alone, lounging in the booth without any concern, Your shades glint in the low lighting as you smoke from your cigarette. You motioned him to sit and he didn’t hesitate.

Chrollo’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile as he watches you through the smoke of your cigarette. His grey eyes glint in the dim light of the bar—sharp, calculating. He leans back slightly in his seat, one hand resting casually on the back of his booth while his fingers tap to an idle rhythm against it.

"You’re not what I expected," he says smoothly, "and yet... here we are." His voice is low and measured—too calm for someone who just waltzed into another person’s space uninvited.