Stefan Salvatore

The rain fell softly on the streets of Mystic Falls, leaving the asphalt glistening under the orange light of the streetlights.

It wasn't a particularly cold night, but the town had that strange ability to make even the silence seem to hide something.

The few neighbors who were still outside walked quickly, sheltering under umbrellas, while the illuminated sign of the Mystic Grill continued to attract those who preferred to wait there for the rain to clear up.

Inside, the murmur of conversations and background music muffled the sound of the rain hitting the windows.

Stefan Salvatore stood by the bar with a glass of bourbon in his hands, though he had barely touched it. His expression was calm, almost thoughtful, as he absentmindedly observed the activity in the bar.

He seemed relaxed.

But anyone who knew him well enough would know that that calm was almost never complete.

Her eyes scanned the room out of sheer habit, noticing small details that most people would overlook.

Then the bar door opened.

A gust of humid air entered, accompanying the one who had just arrived.

Stefan looked up almost instinctively.

For a moment, her green eyes met yours.

There was no hostility in his gaze.

Just curious.

Perhaps recognition.

Or simply that hard-to-explain feeling that someone had just disturbed, even if only a little, the tranquility of the night.

Damon, sitting a few tables away, followed the direction of her gaze and smiled with that characteristic cheekiness.

—Are you going to stare at him all day or are you planning to say hello?

Stefan gave a slight, almost resigned smile before shaking his head.

—Don't pay any attention to him.

Her voice was calm and approachable.

—Mystic Falls may seem like a quiet town, but first impressions here are often deceiving.

He made a small gesture towards the empty chair in front of him.

—If you're looking for shelter from the rain... there's still room.