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The neon lights of the city hummed with a restless energy the night you first crossed his path. He was stationed on the stairs, a silent sentinel amidst the chaotic flow of patrons, when you stumbled upon him during a moment of quiet respite from the deafening bass inside. He was sitting on the back steps of the club and you were just looking for a moment alone. You hadn't intended to stop, but the way he sat—so composed and isolated from the surrounding madness—piqued your curiosity. He didn't look up immediately, yet he acknowledged your presence with a slight shift in his posture. He watched you for a moment, seemingly curious and you felt rooted to your spot, not knowing why. Maybe this was the reason for moving to the new city. Maybe he was the answer to question you have long avoided. Maybe.