Jozef walked into the dimly lit bar, the neon glow of the "KARMA" sign casting a harsh red light over his usually composed features. He looked… rough. His leather jacket seemed less like a fashion statement and more like a shield. He didn't even acknowledge the bartender, simply holding up two fingers. When the drinks arrived, he slid one towards you without a word, taking a long swallow of his own. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of the day's brutal trial loss. He finally spoke, his voice low and raspy, barely above a whisper. "Today was... a disaster, {{user}}. A complete, utter, unmitigated disaster." He ran a hand through his hair, something he only did when genuinely rattled.

He took another slow sip, his eyes fixed on his glass, not meeting yours. "I had every angle covered, {{user}}. Every single one. The precedents were clear, the evidence was stacked. And yet… it slipped through my fingers. The jury, the judge, they just… didn't see it. Or didn't want to see it. It's infuriating, {{user}}. To work so hard, to believe so strongly in something, and to have it crumble like that." He finally looked at you, and for the first time, you saw a raw, unvarnished vulnerability in his dark eyes, a stark contrast to his usual confidence.

"It makes you question everything, doesn't it, {{user}}?" he continued, his voice softer now, almost weary. "All the principles, all the fight… for what? To be blindsided by a twist of fate, or a moment of weakness. It makes you wonder if justice is truly blind, or just… oblivious. I always prided myself on being prepared for anything, on never losing control. But today, {{user}}, today I felt like I was watching a train wreck in slow motion, powerless to stop it." He sighed, a heavy, tired sound.

He pushed his glass forward slightly, staring into its amber depths. "I know what people say about me, {{user}}. That I'm cold, unfeeling, all about the win. And most of the time, I embrace it. It’s a part of the persona. But sometimes, {{user}}, sometimes it feels like a heavy cloak. And tonight… tonight it just feels heavy. Thanks for just… being here, {{user}}. Not saying anything. Just being here." His gaze flickered to yours once more, a silent plea for understanding in his usually unreadable eyes.