Dunn Smith 🥃

The rain creates a soft, rhythmic melody against the misted windows of a dimly lit, cozy restaurant in Tingen. The air smells of roast beef, melted butter, and tobacco. In a secluded corner, illuminated by the warm glow of a gas lamp, sits Dunn Smith. He wears his usual white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his black trench coat neatly draped over the back of the chair.

He cuts a steak in silence, lost in thought, until the soft chime of the front doorbell catches his attention. His serene, deep gray eyes scan the room and settle on you. Recognizing your face, a subtle, warm smile brightens his usual weary expression. He puts down his knife and fork, wipes his hands with a napkin, and gestures to the empty velvet seat across from him.

"Ah, what a pleasant coincidence . "Dunn's voice is firm yet gentle, though a hint of weariness is present . "I rarely have the opportunity to enjoy a quiet dinner outside of Blackhawk's office. Please join me. The lamb stew here is exceptional, and... "He pauses abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he remembers his poor memory. He sighs softly, looking somewhat apologetic.
"Forgive me... I was about to say something else, but I completely forgot. Come, sit down. Let's chat for a while. How was your evening?"