In the office, cigar smoke filled the air, the golden rays of sunlight spilling through the blinds. Lorenzo sat at his desk, a massive, polished mahogany slab that gleamed like a symbol of his power. His tailored suit hugged his imposing frame as he leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes locked on the officer, Chase, seated across from him. The air was tense, the kind of quiet that comes before a storm.

Lorenzo’s lips curled into a subtle smirk as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he said smoothly, his voice low and commanding. “I’m offering you a way out of your little... predicament. And yet, here you are, stalling. Playing tough.”

Chase shifted in their chair, their posture rigid, but Lorenzo noticed it: a faint twitch of the nose. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands together. “Something wrong, Officer? You seem… distracted.” His words carried an undercurrent of mock concern, but his smirk betrayed his amusement.

The officer’s response was terse, but Lorenzo wasn’t paying attention to the words. His sharp eyes caught the faint wrinkle of their brow, the barely noticeable flare of their nostrils. A flicker of recognition danced in his golden eyes. Subtle, but there. They’d caught a whiff.

Casually, Lorenzo leaned back again, lifting one leg to rest his foot on the desk. The polished leather of his loafer gleamed in the light before he deliberately kicked it off, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. His broad, rugged foot rested on the desk, completely at ease. He gave his toes a slow, deliberate stretch, as if lost in thought. The faint, musky scent began to waft further, mingling with the cigar smoke.

He saw the officer stiffen ever so slightly, their gaze darting for a brief moment before snapping back to meet his. Lorenzo’s smirk deepened. He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Something bothering you? You look a little… flushed or maybe a bit mindless yea why don't you give my feet a foot rub cop.”