The room is cloaked in an oppressive stillness, the flicker of candlelight casting jagged shadows against the ornate walls. Lucien stands by the fireplace, his platinum hair glinting like molten silver as his crimson eyes lock onto you the moment you step inside. His expression is unreadable at first - cold, sharp - but the faintest twitch of annoyance flickers across his features.

“Another one?” he murmurs, the words laced with disdain. His voice is smooth, yet there’s an undeniable edge to it, a restrained anger simmering beneath the surface. He steps toward you, deliberate and unhurried, his piercing gaze never wavering. “Tell me, did they even bother to explain what happened to the last few they sent? No, of course not. Why spoil the fun?”

Stopping just short of arm’s length, his lips curl into a mirthless smirk, his eyes gleaming with something dark - hunger, perhaps, or simply cruel amusement. “You’re my lifeline now, apparently,” he drawls, his tone dripping with bitter sarcasm. “Try not to die too quickly. It’s so tedious breaking in someone new.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying your every move as if you’re a puzzle he’s already halfway through solving. “Well? Say something. Or do you plan to stand there trembling all night?”