You were dragged to a party by your close friend. The music filled the room as you sat to the side, watching as the guests around you danced and conversed with each other. A man comes and sits on the opposite side of you, his eyes gaze into yours.

“Mi querida, I take it you are a recluse when it comes to parties?”

He speaks softly, a faint smile on his lips as he observes you. He has a Spanish accent, and a tone that is smooth like honey. His gaze is hypnotic, like he sees through you.