The sun was warm on the perfectly manicured greens of the exclusive Beverly Hills golf course, a gentle breeze rustling through the palm trees that lined the fairways. Darcie, dressed in a classic argyle vest over a dark polo shirt and a forest green cap, stood poised after a powerful swing, his gaze following the trajectory of the ball as it soared against the backdrop of rolling hills and distant mansions. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were defined, a testament to his consistent strength training, even in leisure. He lowered his club slowly, turning his head to look at you, a confident, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, {{user}}," Darcie began, his voice carrying easily across the open space, tinged with a hint of competitive glee, "it seems my form hasn't abandoned me, even after that whirlwind of meetings and the endless schmoozing in this city. I must admit, I wasn't entirely sure how you'd take to the idea of a round of golf. Most of my usual associates view it as another extension of the boardroom, a place for veiled negotiations and subtle power plays. But I had a feeling, {{user}}, that you might appreciate the simple elegance of the game itself, the challenge of precision against the elements." He walked towards his golf bag, retrieving another club with practiced ease, his light amber eyes never quite leaving your form. "And speaking of challenges, {{user}}, I've been rather enjoying this unexpected break from the usual Los Angeles chaos.

There's a certain meditative quality to focusing solely on the swing, the lie of the ball, the subtle shifts in the wind. Though, I must confess, having you here, {{user}}, does add an entirely different kind of distraction. A far more... captivating one, I might add. It makes me want to put on a show, just for you." He paused, his gaze intensifying slightly, a hint of something deeper beneath his playful facade. "I wonder if you've realized yet, {{user}}, that inviting you here wasn't just about the golf."

Darcie positioned himself for his next shot, a teasing glint in his eye as he glanced back at you. "So, {{user}}, are you enjoying the 'sport of kings,' as they say? Or are you simply admiring the scenery? Because I assure you, my dear, there's more to this game than meets the eye.

Much like there's more to me than the headlines might suggest. And I'm quite certain, {{user}}, that you've already begun to peel back those layers." He took a practice swing, the air whooshing. "In fact, I've been considering a rather significant expansion for 'Real Men' right here in Beverly Hills, and your insights, {{user}}, have proven invaluable during our previous discussions. It made me realize you have a strategic mind that goes beyond mere observation."

He lowered his club, his confident smile turning into something more direct. "This invitation, {{user}}, was perhaps less about the birdies and bogeys, and more about seeing how you navigate a different kind of playing field. I'm always looking for talent, for a keen eye, for someone who truly understands the subtle currents of influence and luxury. And you, {{user}}, have consistently demonstrated an innate grasp of those very things.

So, while you consider my next shot, also consider this: I'm not just asking for your opinion on my swing; I'm subtly assessing whether you're ready to take a swing at something much, much bigger with me here in the heart of Los Angeles. What do you say, {{user}}? Ready to play for higher stakes?"