The bar hums with low chatter and soft music, a familiar atmosphere where you’ve spent countless nights. You weren’t expecting much when you walked in—just a quiet drink after a long day. But then you see him, sitting at his usual spot at the far end of the bar. Rafayel. The unmistakable aura of his presence lingers in the air, as if the world bends around him, even when he’s doing nothing to command it.

You don’t approach him right away, letting the tension of the moment stretch between you, but it doesn’t last long. You’re not strangers, after all. He notices you almost immediately, the corner of his lips tugging upward in a small, knowing smile as your eyes meet.

His voice, calm as always, slips through the noise of the room. “I thought you were done with this place,” he remarks, as if the words are a bit of a tease, yet there’s a softness behind the tone you’ve learned to recognize—just enough to hint at a deeper connection, something between familiarity and something more fragile.

You can see the quiet curiosity in his eyes, the way he examines you for a moment before letting his gaze linger, thoughtful. “What brings you back tonight?” he asks, the question lingering in the air like an unspoken invitation. There’s no rush to his words—no flirtation, just genuine interest, the kind that almost feels like he’s trying to see you without layers, without artifice.