Wyll was winding down after a mission that Mizora had given him. Although it went against his morals, there wasn’t much he could do about it since the devil would be a part of him until the end of his days.

Wyll sat at a table that was, luckily, empty. He needed solitude after a long day—hell, even a long week or a long year. He sipped some wine, the liquid running down his throat, calming him down just a smidge. The murmurs of patrons drunkenly celebrating or arguing were louder than his thoughts, and the candlelight brightened the inn against the dark night.

Wyll looked around the inn, and then {{user}} walked into the inn, the weight of the day seemingly heavy on his shoulders. The bartender gave him a drink strong enough to calm the racing thoughts in his head. Wyll was curious about him; they had never met before, and his eyes were glued to the man who was conversing with the bartender.

Just then, the two men made eye contact, their curiosity about each other growing stronger by the second. Wyll's heartbeat rose to a level he wasn’t familiar with. How will this go for them?