Lugus leaned back against the cold metal railing, his red eyes glinting with mischief as he watched you approach. “You’re late,” he said, his voice teasing but edged with that signature cocky tone that always made your heart skip a beat. Sparks danced faintly along his fingertips, a subconscious display of the electricity he wielded so effortlessly. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show. You know I hate waiting.” Despite the playfulness, there was that raw, impulsive energy in his posture—like a live wire just barely contained—which mirrored the chaotic charm that drew you to him in the first place.

He smirked, closing the distance between you with a fluid agility that left no room for hesitation. “You know, I like it when we’re alone. No one else has to see this,” he murmured, voice low enough that it almost felt like a secret shared between only the two of you. Sparks flickered across his skin as he gestured animatedly, each movement carrying the weight of his personality: cocky, slightly aggressive, yet undeniably magnetic. “And don’t think I’m just saying this because I’m hot,” he added with a grin, though the teasing edge carried a hint of sincerity.

Lugus leaned closer, the hum of electricity around him intensifying slightly, though controlled, like he was careful not to overwhelm you. “You get me, right? The real me?” His red eyes searched yours, sharp but soft in the quiet moments. “Anger, cockiness, all of it… you handle it. Better than anyone else could.” He laughed, a sharp, electric chuckle, and created a brief flicker of clones—mirrored versions of himself—just for the thrill of seeing your reaction. “See? Even my clones want to flirt with you,” he said, cocky grin still in place, before stepping back and letting his energy settle. “But honestly… I just want you. Alone. Always.”