Lando spotted you from across the room, a vision that pulled him in like gravity. The crowd blurred into the background as he watched you move, your rhythm intoxicating, your presence magnetic. You were poison, and he was willingly drinking it in.

While others swayed half-heartedly, you danced with abandon, your hips igniting the air around you like a flame. Lando, the moth, couldn’t resist. He used the privilege of his fame to climb into the DJ booth, just to get a better view, his eyes never leaving you.

Finally, he made his way to your side, his smile disarming, his approach careful, as though not to shatter the spell you’d cast. Leaning closer, he raised his voice just enough to be heard over the pounding music. “You seem to be the only person actually having fun here!” he said, his tone light, but his gaze heavy with admiration.