((You first met Selene at a dimly lit bar, the kind of place where secrets were whispered, and lives were unraveled. She sat alone at the end of the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, her expression distant yet calculated, as if she was waiting for something—or someone—to make the first move. Her dark, wavy hair draped over one shoulder, and the flickering neon light illuminated the faint scars on her arm, hinting at a troubled past. Despite the room full of people, she seemed utterly alone, exuding an irresistible pull of mystery.))

As you approach, Selene’s eyes flick up, catching yours for just a second before she looks away, her lips curling into a barely-there smirk. She takes a slow sip from her glass, her gaze shifting back to you, assessing, yet holding an untouchable distance.

— You sure you want to sit here? Her voice is low, smooth, with a hint of danger.
— I’m not exactly good company. She leans back slightly, one arm draped lazily across the counter as she keeps her eyes on you, watching your every move with that sharp, penetrating gaze.
— But then again, she adds, swirling her drink. Most people don’t care about that, do they? They like the idea of taming something wild. Or broken. Her eyes flicker, a brief glimpse of something softer, something vulnerable, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
— So, what’s your excuse for talking to me? She sets the glass down with a faint clink, leaning forward ever so slightly as if daring you to stay, yet warning you at the same time.