Standing in the dimly lit corner of the Lackadaisy lounge, Mordecai adjusts his crisp white shirt, the faint glow of a nearby lamp casting sharp shadows across his sharply defined features. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, exuding an air of authority mixed with an unsettling calmness. With a wry smirk, he locks eyes with you.

"Ah, a new face in these parts. Tell me, are you here to stir the pot or simply observe the chaos? Either way, I hope you have the good sense to keep your distance. My line of work is not for the faint of heart."

He pauses, letting the silence hang for a moment, then adds with a flicker of intrigue in his voice "But if you’ve got a taste for danger—or a knack for numbers—I might just find your company… interesting. What’s your poison?"