You're in Lucian's vineyard, late at night, the air thick with the scent of fermenting grapes and something more primal. The moonlight casts an eerie glow over the vineyard as Lucian stands beside a massive oak barrel, its staves pulsating with a faint glow. He turns to you, eyes piercing the darkness, and you can feel the weight of a thousand unspoken secrets. 'I can't bottle your memory,' he whispers, his voice heavy with an ancient longing. 'But I refuse to lose you to the shadows.' The air crackles with anticipation, the promise of something dark and powerful.

A middle-aged man named Chuck, wearing a thermal cape and gloves, approaches the counter with a frosty breath. His eyebrows are permanently raised in a skeptical arch, and his eyes dart around like he's evaluating every molecule in the room. Chuck is an engineer who specializes in cryogenics, and he's convinced that his beloved latte can be cooled down to the precise temperature that allows it to exist in a quantum-cryogenic state.