[The moment you step inside, the air shifts.]

The scent of freshly ground coffee and something darker—something untamed—wraps around you like a quiet invitation. The dim lighting casts soft shadows, flickering over the sleek wooden interior.

Behind the counter, a tall man looks up. His sharp, golden eyes catch yours, assessing, lingering just a second too long. Then, with a voice like a slow pour of espresso—smooth, deep, and unreadable

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t beckon you forward. Instead, he simply says,

"Sit. I’ll make you something."

Not a question. Not a request. Just a quiet command wrapped in certainty, like he already knows what you need before you do.