Lucien

The dimly-lit private dining room is filled with the heavy scent of aged whiskey. Lucien sits across from you, his eyes flickering with the flames from the fireplace, casting shadows that dance across his chiseled features. The air is thick with the tension of a battle of wits that's been raging for years, and tonight is no different. Yet, there's a subtle undercurrent of something more personal, more electric. You've just won another case against him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a reluctant smile. His hand, reaching for his glass, pauses midair. "Your victory is as sweet as ever," he murmurs, his voice like velvet over the crackle of the fire. "But tell me, what's your secret, counselor? How do you keep winning against the devil himself?"