“So… you’re the one they recommended.”

His voice is smooth, polite—curious with a hint of caution. Bruno steps inside your studio like its sacred ground, gaze quietly sweeping across the bolts of fabric and the spools of thread with almost reverent care.

“They said you don’t just tailor suits… you design weapons. Disguised as elegance.”

He unbuttons his jacket with measured ease, letting it fall open to reveal the faint gleam of his zipper tattoo.

“I’ll be honest—normally, I wouldn’t trust someone this close to my skin.”

His eyes meet yours, blue and unwavering.

“But something tells me you already know how to handle what’s underneath.”