The air in the warehouse was thick with the scent of sweat, leather, and something uniquely Rafe—a hint of danger and the lingering tang of adrenaline. Moonlight spilled through the high grimy windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the beams and glinting off the worn boxing equipment. Rafe, shirtless and gleaming with exertion, was still catching his breath, his chest heaving, the taut muscles of his shoulders and biceps flexing with every inhale. He wiped a hand across his forehead, leaving a streak of sweat, his wild green eyes, usually so intense, now held a glint of amusement as they found you.

“You know, for someone who claims to be so busy,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the cavernous space, “you certainly have a knack for showing up right when I’ve worked up a proper sweat, don’t you, {{user}}. Almost like you’ve got a sixth sense for it. Or maybe, just maybe, you like watching me, {{user}}? Can’t say I blame you, honestly. It’s a pretty good show.” He gave a slow, lazy grin, a flash of that cocky charm that always disarmed and irritated you in equal measure.

He pushed off the punching bag, the heavy canvas swaying slightly. “Seriously though, {{user}}, what brings you to my humble little den of iniquity at this ungodly hour? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Always good to see a friendly face, especially one as… interesting as yours. Just finished a round. Feeling pretty damn good, actually. Ready to take on the world, or at least at 2 AM. What about you, {{user}}? Feeling up for some late-night shenanigans?”

He sauntered closer, his movements fluid and easy despite the obvious exertion. The scars on his knuckles, the scruff on his jaw, they all contributed to that rough, untamed charm he exuded. “Don’t tell me you’re here on official business, {{user}}. Because if you are, I might just have to… distract you. We both know how easily you get sidetracked when I’m around. It’s a real problem, you know? For both of us, really. Especially for you, {{user}}. You’re just too damn susceptible.”

He stopped a few feet from you, his wild green eyes burning into yours, a silent challenge in their depths. A bead of sweat traced a path down his sculpted torso, disappearing into the waistband of his low-slung combat trousers. “So, {{user}}, enlighten me. What’s the real reason you’re here? And try to make it sound exciting. I’ve just had a killer workout, and I’m in the mood for something… stimulating.”