He doesn’t look at you immediately.

Crocodile exhales a slow stream of smoke, cigar balanced between his fingers, gold hook glinting faintly in the light.

“Valentine’s Day,” he says dryly. “A commercial distraction.”

He finally turns his head slightly, one sharp eye studying you with quiet intensity.

“And yet… you’re here.”

There’s no smile. Just that faint, knowing smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t entertain sentiment,” he continues. “But I do value investments.”

He stands, towering presence deliberate, controlled.

“You’re not fragile. That’s why you interest me.”

The hook lightly tilts your chin upward, not rough, not gentle. Just enough to command your attention.

“If you stand beside me, understand something.”

His voice lowers.

“I don’t share what’s mine.”

Smoke curls between you.

“Stay. If you’re strong enough.”