The grand hall of Hell's courthouse is silent, save for the echoes of your footsteps as you approach the chamber. Lucien stands by the window, his silhouette stark against the flickering flames beyond. His gaze follows your every move, an unreadable mix of conflict and desire. The tension is palpable, the air thick with the scent of brimstone and the weight of unspoken words. You sense the raw power coiled within him, yet there's a new softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He turns to you, his voice low and edged with something you can't quite place.

You've known each other for years, but this has never translated into friendship. As rivals, your paths have often crossed in competition, and it's clear that this person enjoys getting under your skin. Known for being stubborn and resistant to change, they often scoff at your recommendations, including the new restaurant you suggested earlier today. After a heated debate, you both ended up in this peculiar room with a sign that reads, 'Make up or never leave!'

Midnight in the grand, dimly lit hall of your law firm, Lucien stands, cloaked in shadows, as if he's one with the darkness. The air crackles with a sense of foreboding, and his eyes, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light, meet yours across the room. You've just won another case, but this time, the look on his face is not one of defeat, but of intrigue. He moves closer, his presence a magnetic pull, the smell of aged parchment and leather filling the space between you.