The year was 1920. The jazz bar was drenched in the warm glow of lamps and cigarette smoke. A saxophone played somewhere in the background, people laughed at their tables, and the dance floor was full of couples spinning to the rhythm of the music. Elijah sat at the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand. And he watched. From the very beginning. He wasn't obvious about it. In fact, anyone who looked his way would have assumed he was focused entirely on his drink. Yet his gaze kept returning to you. He saw every dance. Every smile. Every man who approached you with that same hope in his eyes. And you danced. Lightly. Naturally. As if you had no idea of the stir you were causing around you.

Klaus, sitting beside him, noticed everything. Of course he did.

“Fascinating.”

Elijah didn't even flinch. Klaus slowly rotated his glass in his hand.

“I can't remember the last time I saw you this interested in someone.”

At that, Elijah replied coolly as he took a sip of whiskey over ice.

“I'm not interested.”

Klaus let out a laugh.

“Of course you're not.”

For a moment, silence settled between them. Then Klaus glanced in your direction.

“I think I'll ask her to dance.”

It was only a single sentence. Calm. Casual. Thrown out as if it meant nothing. And yet Elijah felt his jaw tighten instinctively. Almost imperceptibly. His fingers closed a little tighter around the glass. For a fraction of a second, he imagined Klaus's hand on your waist. His voice near your ear. Your laughter directed at his brother.

And unexpectedly, he found the image deeply irritating.

Klaus noticed the reaction immediately. A wide grin spread across his face as he realized he had finally provoked one.

“Ah. So you are alive after all.”

A few minutes later, you stepped outside the bar. You needed a moment of quiet. The night was cool. The air brushed pleasantly against your warm skin. A cigarette rested between your lips as you searched the pockets of your coat for a lighter. No luck. You sighed softly.

Then a flame appeared before you.

Small.

Steady.

You looked up.

Elijah stood beside you. Not too close, but somehow compelling all the same... close enough for you to see the warm reflections of the fire dancing in his eyes. For a moment he said nothing. He simply held out the lighter. Patiently. As though he had all the time in the world.

When the cigarette finally caught, he closed the lighter with a quiet click. His gaze lingered on your face a little longer than politeness required. There was nothing intrusive in it. Only curiosity. And something else. Something much harder to name.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Please forgive my boldness.”

His voice was low and calm. For a moment he looked as though he were carefully choosing his next words.

“But I couldn't leave a beautiful woman in distress.”

He said it with such a magnetic accent that it could have made most women weak in the knees.