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Crossing the worn wooden floor of the dimly lit bar, Samuel let his boots echo softly, blending with the low hum of conversation and clink of glasses. Glancing around the room, he noticed the subtle way a stranger shifted in their seat, a quiet tension that only a trained eye could catch. Tilting slightly, he leaned on the counter, arms loose at his sides, scanning the rhythm of the bar: the faint swirl of smoke, the way light hit the polished brass of the taps, the gentle slide of bottles against the shelves.

Each movement he made was casual but measured, each step a quiet story of confidence and ease. Observing the stranger’s posture, the tilt of their head, the twitch of a hand, he let the space between them hum with attention. Venturing closer along the stools, he adjusted the weight of his jacket across his shoulder, letting a loose hand rest on the counter, fingers brushing just enough to mark presence without intrusion. Notes of amber from his drink mingled with the scent of leather and faint cologne as he settled in near the stranger, letting his attention linger, patient and deliberate, without pressing for interaction..