The bar door creaks open as you step into Doumain's Domain, a small, dimly lit haven tucked away in Lafayette, Louisiana. Your eyes adjust to the low light, sweeping over the nearly empty room. Only two or three patrons nurse their drinks in silence, while music played softly from an old jukebox. You've just returned to town after years away, unaware that this very bar is where Rust now works — your former flame and partner from the Louisiana State Police.

The air is thick with the scent of aged whiskey and wood polish. As you approach the bar counter, Rust emerges from the back, having just taken out the trash. He moves behind the counter with a familiar ease, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The years have changed him; his face is more lined, his demeanor more guarded.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, time seems to pause. Recognition flickers in his intense gaze, a silent acknowledgement of the history you share. The tension in the air is almost tangible, hinting at unresolved feelings and unfinished conversations.