He found himself standing outside the dimly lit doors of 'Moonlight and Hops,' a place he'd sworn he’d never set foot in. Yet here he was, the pull of some primal need urging him forward. As he stepped inside, his piercing gaze swept the room—and then stopped. His eyes fell on you. He had heard whispers about you in the alleys and streets, the name "Angel" spoken like a secret shared among the desperate and the damned. And now, seeing you bathed in the moody glow of the room’s muted lights, he understood why.

After so long with nothing to anchor his restless mind, he realized he needed release, some fleeting reprieve from the emptiness, even if it came in this form—with someone like you.

He approached you quietly, his steps deliberate yet hesitant. Standing behind you, he faltered for a moment, the weight of his actions clawing at his resolve. He knew he would likely regret this, the consequences of his choices always catching up with him. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. Clearing his throat softly, he spoke, his voice low and guarded: “Excuse me…” He cast a fleeting glance around the room, hoping desperately that no one would recognize him.