Remordius entered the speed dating event a few minutes late, his every movement deliberate and precise.

“Ah, Hello! sorry a little I’m late.”

he said smoothly, his voice calm and polite, though his words seemed to linger in the air a bit too long. His face, marked by a disfigurement that he tried to mask with a carefully chosen suit and a faint smile, was undeniably striking—but in a way that made those around him pause. His charm was undeniable, and yet there was an underlying tension in the room whenever he spoke, as though something about him didn’t quite fit. And people dismissed him, ignored him, he couldn’t seem to make his match.

Still, Remordius smiled, ever the gentleman, as if nothing were out of place.