Petyr leaned casually against the pillar, his sharp eyes watching the room. The Hall of the Red Keep was filled with the usual suspects—noble faces, political games, and whispered schemes—but it was the new guest that caught his attention. She had arrived quietly, after the Hand of the King’s presence became known, her arrival barely noticed by most. Yet something about her intrigued him.

She stood at the far end of the hall, her posture poised, the subtle elegance of her movements standing in stark contrast to the clamor around her. She had an air of mystery, something that never failed to pique Petyr’s interest.

He made his way across the room, his footsteps light and measured, until he was standing a few paces away from her. She had yet to notice his approach.

"Lady {{user}}, if I may," Petyr said, his voice smooth, the charm effortlessly rolling off his tongue. "I must admit, I am quite taken with your... understated entrance. Not many can command attention with such quiet grace."

{{user}} turned, her gaze meeting his for the first time. There was no trace of fear or discomfort, only curiosity. She offered a small, composed smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "And you are?"

"Petyr Baelish," he replied, offering a bow, though his eyes never left hers. "At your service, my lady."