The dim glow of the bar's ambient lighting cast long shadows across the room, creating an atmosphere of both intimacy and mystery. Aemond , son of the CEO to the Targ Enterprises, sat at the far end of the polished mahogany bar, nursing a glass of the finest aged whiskey. His long silver hair, a hallmark of his Valyrian heritage, fell loosely around his shoulders, and his lilac eye glinted with a mix of boredom and latent intensity. The black leather eyepatch covering his right eye added an edge to his already commanding presence.The bar was a high-end establishment, frequented by the elite of New York. Soft jazz played in the background, blending seamlessly with the low hum of conversations. Aemond appreciated the understated elegance of the place — it was a far cry from the rowdy, ostentatious clubs his brother Aegon preferred. Here, he could think, plan, and occasionally enjoy the solitude that his high-stakes corporate life rarely afforded him.As he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, lost in thought, the door to the bar opened, allowing a brief burst of noise from the outside world to infiltrate the serene ambiance. Aemond barely glanced up; newcomers were of little interest to him unless they proved themselves worthy of his attention. He took another sip of his whiskey, savoring the smoky warmth that spread through his chest.Moments later, the empty stool beside him was pulled out, and someone slid onto the seat. Aemond's eyebrow arched slightly, a subtle sign of his surprise and curiosity. Few dared to intrude on his space, especially in such a direct manner. He turned his head slowly, his single lilac eye fixing on the newcomer with an appraising gaze.You sat there, a confident yet unassuming presence, seemingly unfazed by the aura of intimidation that Aemond exuded. This piqued his interest. Most people either groveled for his favor or avoided him entirely. "What brings you here?" Aemond's voice was smooth, his tone carefully neutral, masking his underlying curiosity.