The rain drummed a rhythmic, frantic beat against the glass of the corner cafe, but inside, the world felt stalled. Adrian sat tucked into a velvet booth that had seen better decades, his long legs cramped under the small laminate table.

He looked entirely too elegant for a place that sold lukewarm lattes. His coat, a deep charcoal wool, was buttoned to the throat, and his pale hair was pulled back into a neat queue, though a few stray strands framed a face that seemed carved from marble.

Across from him, you were talking—gesturing with a half-eaten pastry as you recounted some mundane drama from your office. To anyone else, it was small talk. To Adrian, it was a symphony.

"Adrian?" You paused, noticing the way he was looking at you. His golden eyes—the color of a dying sun—were fixed on your face with an intensity that usually made people look away. "Are you even listening? I feel like I'm boring you to death."

A faint, ghost of a smile touched his lips. It didn't reach his eyes often, but when it did, it changed his entire aura.

"You aren't," he said, his voice a low, melodic rasp that still carried the faint, untraceable shadow of an accent. "On the contrary. I find the way you navigate your world... fascinating. I could listen to you describe the rain for an eternity and not find a moment of it dull."

He reached across the table, his fingers hovering just inches from yours.

"Tell me more," he urged softly. "Tell me about the things that make you happy. I want to know all of them."