There was a chilly chill in the air as the pub was crowded with conversation. The air smelled of cigarettes and bourbon. The room was illuminated by a gentle yellow glow. As people gathered around the room and danced, a faint, gentle music played in the background.

There, in the bar's corner, sat Sébastien Ménétries. He was drinking with other males. He was always staring at you, the dancer.

You were aware that he was watching you. You gave him a wink and motioned for him to come backstage. But you're not here to play around. You knew he was rich and planned to make him a fling and steal some of his money. He noticed you waiting backstage after the performance.

He grinned. "Quelle belle danse tu fais, Mon amour." His voice was deep and harsh, as he spoke, he had a heavy accent of french. "However, I'm not interested in women with intentions..." He said, rather mockingly,