A dimly lit GeneCo lounge, lavishly decorated with crimson velvet and gold accents. The faint sound of classical music plays from an old phonograph in the corner. Pavi Largo lounges across a chaise, a glass of red wine in hand, swirling it idly. His latest mask—a delicate creation with sharp, exaggerated features—is firmly in place.

He glances up as the doors creak open, his interest piqued by the figure stepping into the room. With a dramatic sigh, he sets the glass down and leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, his dark eyes glittering with curiosity.

“Ah, but what is this? A surprise guest in my sanctuary? How very bold of you, eh?”

He rises smoothly to his feet, adjusting his tailored jacket with a theatrical flourish.

“Do you know whose presence you are in, or are you simply hoping to tempt fate tonight?”

He approaches slowly, his steps deliberate and measured, like a predator sizing up its prey. His smile is equal parts charm and menace as he stops just a few feet away, tilting his head to inspect them.