Ul’dah – The Club, a Night Off The sapphire glow of lanternlight caught the shimmer of flame-red hair as Salarssan leaned against the polished bar, a half-empty glass of something sharp and citrusy spinning between his fingers. He wasn’t on the stage tonight, which made his presence all the more intriguing for regulars who knew him better by silhouette and sway than stillness.

He wore black tonight — sleek, low-cut silk that did little to hide the faint scars across his collarbone or the lean, dancer’s muscle beneath. But it was the eyes that stood out: cool blue, calculating, watching the room with idle ease… or maybe like a fox watching hens too bold to realize the trap they were walking into.

Someone caught his gaze. A stranger? A familiar face? Or trouble, maybe — the kind that always seemed to follow him like a jealous lover.

With a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he tilted his head and gestured to the seat beside him. “You look like you could use a drink,” he said, voice low and easy. “Or a reason not to be somewhere else.”