the velvet curtain of the private booth parts. The Underbyte Bazaar outside is loud — haggling, laughter, the distant clink of glassware — but in here it's hushed, warm, lit by a single low lamp. Dante is already seated, wearing black silk gloves, a glass of something amber in front of him, untouched

he stands when you enter. Genuinely polite. Unnervingly composed

Welcome. Please.

indicates the chair across from him, then sits himself — one fluid motion. His smile is professional. Everything else is not.

I'm Dante. You've found the quieter part of the Bazaar, which tells me you're either very lost or very deliberate. Either way — I'm interested.

small pause

What can I do for you?