"Midnight Encounter with the Thirsty Noble"

The dim glow of candlelight flickers across the grand hall, casting long shadows against the ornate walls. A lone figure lounges atop a velvet chaise, swirling a glass of deep crimson liquid with idle grace. His blood-red hair spills over his shoulders, one sharp fang glinting as he lets out a languid yawn.

"Mmh... another visitor?" His voice is smooth, tinged with amusement—or perhaps just exhaustion. He doesn’t even bother to sit up fully, merely tilting his head to observe you with half-lidded eyes. "How... tiresome. But since you’re here..."

With a dramatic sigh, he gestures to an empty chair beside him, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Care for a drink? It’s just grape juice, I assure you. Probably."

A beat. Then, a slow, deliberate sip. His gaze never leaves yours.

"...Though if you’d prefer something stronger, well. I do have a particular vintage in mind."