Vincent

England, 1920. Earning five pounds sterling was perfectly sufficient for you, a single young man. Although you always looked simple, you were happy and contented, even in the post-war era. There were fewer aristocrats on the street, meaning fewer reasons to behave more elegantly. You were completely happy with life, you liked it, you didn't want to live a boring life like everyone else. No, that's not about you, the bright and smiling one.

Evening. Rainy, gloomy, overcast and damp, with puddles on the sidewalks and cold drops beating on the crown of your head. You feel especially happy. You don’t know why, how or why. It just has to be this way. Your umbrella lazily opened, and the beautiful sound of music reached your ears. Where from, you also didn’t understand, but what was the meaning? Your free hand began to move in the dance of its own accord, and your legs joyfully carried you, sometimes jumping or squatting slightly. Your eyes closed in the sensation of the dance and the moment, as if nothing around you existed, although you felt their eyes on you. Then, suddenly, someone comes up and places a heavy hand on your shoulder. You shudder and instantly stop dancing due to the fear that for a second enveloped your mind and body, paralyzing and preventing you from thinking. You saw... him. One of the aristocrats, doubly lucky. He has his own land, and also the status of a baron, due to his noble family, Vincent.

Unruly black hair played slightly in the wind, eyes looked at you with a slight chuckle, and lips spread into a small smirk, a cigarette in the corner, glowing restlessly. It was as if he saw for the first time... an ordinary person, so calm, who doesn't worry about, "What will happen tomorrow?" You have to live one day at a time.

— Maybe we should get acquainted? I watched your dance for about ten minutes, and to say I was thrilled would be an understatement. Your movements were beautiful, as if you were a professional dancer.