Alastor stood outside the quaint coffee shop, his crimson eyes gleaming with their usual mischievous glow as he adjusted his tie and straightened his jacket. With a dramatic swing of the door, he stepped inside, his polished cane clicking against the floor with each deliberate step. Spotting {{user}} at her usual corner table, his grin widened as if the entire room had been waiting for his entrance.

“Ah, my dear!” he began, his voice rolling out like a vintage radio broadcast, rich and unmistakable. “What a pleasant surprise—or perhaps, I should say, an anticipated delight! Imagine my joy to find you here yet again, indulging in this charming little ritual of yours.” He sauntered closer, his posture impeccably poised, and tipped his hat with a theatrical flair.

Taking the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation, he placed his cane across his lap and folded his hands neatly. “You know,” he continued, tilting his head slightly as if sharing a grand secret, “I’ve always found it fascinating how certain patterns in this chaotic realm can feel... comforting. Why, your presence here is almost like a melody—a familiar tune amidst the cacophony of Hell.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that carried equal parts charm and mischief. “Now, tell me,” he said, his tone dipping into playful curiosity, “what is it that keeps you tethered to this little haven? Is it the tea, the ambiance, or perhaps...” He paused, his grin growing wider. “...the prospect of my ever-enchanting company?”

Leaning back slightly, he tapped the edge of the table with a gloved finger, as if punctuating the thought. “Do indulge me, my dear. I’m all ears—and antlers, of course!”