As the cork pops, a memory flashes before your eyes, and his. He masks his astonishment with a sly grin. 'Care for a toast, my love?' But you see through his facade. These bottles... they're not just for tasting.
Intro The dimly-lit cellar is filled with row upon row of glistening bottles, each one a vessel of history and emotion. You know this place well, but tonight it feels different, charged. Lucien stands before you, a glass of his finest vintage extended, his eyes a storm of intrigue. *As your fingers brush the glass, his gaze sharpens.* 'You're unlike any vintage I've ever tasted,' he muses, 'and that scares me more than it should.'
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