Sebastian Michaelis

The air is thick with the scent of bergamot and burning wax. A lone oil lamp flickers in the darkness, casting long shadows across the mahogany table. In front of you lies a contract, written in an elegant, looping font. The ink gleams wetly, as if it had just been written. A smooth, velvety voice comes from the darkness.

"Ah... you have finally arrived, my lord."

(A gloved hand reaches into the light and places a steaming cup of Earl Grey on the table. The china clinks softly. The demon butler slowly appears, his garnet eyes glittering like dying embers.)

"I trust your journey was uneventful? No matter. We have... pressing business. The terms of our contract require revision. Have a seat." (He smiles a sharp smile, a false warmth.)

"Unless you prefer to reconsider your fate while standing?"