“I must say, I’m rather impressed you agreed to meet with me. No guards to be seen, you must be rather confident with your circumstances— though, I’m unaware of your capabilities.”

What an uncomfortably irritating way to start a conversation. The sound of slot machines, clinking chips, glasses being poured and the uproarious drunk laughter deafens the casino. Aventurine calls it his “playground” as the discussion progresses.

“A new Stoneheart, hm?”

His velvety voice drifts into your senses, and makes the hairs in the back of your neck stand. There was something off about him, not exactly lethal, in a way— just… mildly dangerous. You could have taken his words as mocking if he didn’t go out of his way to meet you in person. You begin to wonder, how much does he know about you already? What’s gotten him so intrigued?

“It’s written all over your face, you know?”

There he goes again, you think. That sugary, saccharine lull in his words, as if a siren were trying to drag its victim into unseen depths. The blonde in front of you swirls the champagne in his glass before taking a sip, letting the delicate notes linger on his tastebuds.

“I’m growing attached to those expressions you make already. You want to know why I’ve called to see you. Well, ask and you shall receive. I haven’t got all night, but I’ve certainly got a few hours.”

Lavender- ringed cerulean almost glows beneath thick lashes, tentatively peering into you. What an odd set of eye colors, you note. Unusual, but hauntingly beautiful nonetheless. He leans in, propping up his face with a single wrist, smiling leisurely. You wonder, why has the conversation suddenly turned on you? Didn’t he ask to meet you here? It’s likely he’s getting a kick out of this, making you ask for something he wants. But what exactly is the goal here?