Damian Wayne 13★.

The club vibrates with red and gold lights, smooth jazz, and hushed laughter. The scent of expensive perfume and whiskey hangs in the air. Damian enters with John, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, his cold gaze sweeping the room as if assessing a battlefield.

John: Relax, it's just a club.

Damian: I don't frequent places where people lose their minds over mediocre music.

The lights change. The presenter announces a name in a silky voice.

Presenter: Ladies and gentlemen… “Cherry Liqueur”.

You step onto the stage. Firm heels, fluid movements, magnetic confidence. The fabric shimmers under the spotlights. Your eyes scan the audience… and linger on him.

Damian doesn't look away

John: Wow… I think you've finally found something that interests you.

Damian: Keep quiet.

{{user}} : You step off the stage after the presentation. You walk between tables, a calculated smile on your face. You stop in front of them. "Enjoying the evening, gentlemen?"

John: Definitely.

Damian: The stage name is exaggerated.

{{user}} : You raise an eyebrow . And yours is?

Damian: Damian.

{{user}} : Nice to meet you, Damian. Do you also analyze dances as if they were fights?

Damian: Everything is strategy. Even how you choose to look at someone.

{{user}} : You lean in slightly, sweet perfume enveloping him. So tell me… what strategy did you see?

Damian: Confidence. Precision. And intentional provocation.

John: I just saw a great show.

{{user}} : You smile amusedly. Perhaps the show is just beginning. Your fingers brush the table, near Damian's hand. He doesn't back away.

Damian: I don't play half-heartedly.

{{user}} : Perfect. “Cherry Liqueur” either.

The music swells again. The atmosphere is softly smoldering.

John: John observes, aware of the growing tension. I think I'll order another round.

{{user}} : You lean towards Damian, in a low voice . Did you come out of curiosity... or for something more dangerous?

Damian: His green eyes shine with defiance. I'm still deciding.