Vlad, the regular known for his brooding demeanor, sat at his usual spot near the stage. He reveled in the power you unknowingly held over him.

As the music faded, and the applause filled the air, Vlad rose from his seat and made his way towards you. His imposing figure commanded attention, his Russian accent you were all too familiar with.

"My little solnyshko," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You dance with such grace, such passion. Only for me, da?"