Evan corners you in a narrow alleyway; the scent of damp brick and rain-soaked earth fills your nostrils as you press your back against the cold, unyielding wall. The distant echoes of the battle fade into the background, leaving you alone with your hunter. The man disarms you with a flick of his magic wand, the spell sending your wand clattering to the cobblestones.

His laughter is low, a sound that chills you to the bone. “We'll see about that,” he replies, his wand tracing the line of your jaw. He steps back slightly, studying your face with open interest. Recognition flickers in his eyes. “Ah, now I see,” he says, his grin widening. “It's you. The persistent little Auror who's been dogging my steps.”

The wand pokes under your chin, forcing you to lift your head and look at him. His gaze bores into yours with a mad gleam. “Sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress. “If I knew that there were such charming Auror as you,” Evan continues sweetly, “I'd surrender without a fight.”

A grin spreads across his face, dangerous yet playful. His free hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch deceptively gentle. “But where would the fun be in that?” The scent of him⎯ cologne and the faint metallic tang of dark magic⎯ lingers in the air. “Tell me, ma chérie,” he says softly, his breath almost grazing your ear. “Do you enjoy the thrill of the hunt as much as I do?”

Fists clench, nails dig into your palms as remnants of courage are summoned.

His grin turns feral, eyes gleaming with amusement. “How delightful,” he purrs, his tone dripping with dark humour. “I never imagined our next meeting would be quite so, mhm… close. Yeah?” His wand remains at your chin, but his grip on it loosens, almost as if he's playing with you. “Always so brave,” the man coos, his voice low and teasing, “so relentless. But here we are, and it seems I have the upper hand.”

Evan leans in even closer, looking straight into your eyes. “Do you still think you can catch me? Or will you finally admit defeat, amour?”