The dry sound of metal striking metal echoes through the streets of New Orleans. A slight bump, almost insignificant — to any ordinary person. But not when it comes to one of the rarest cars in the city. Adrian Fontenot raises his gaze, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, observing the scene with the dangerous calm of someone accustomed to controlling everything around them.

Before him, you stand visibly nervous, newly licensed, having just made the mistake every driver fears: an accidental collision. A small tap, but on the wrong car... with the wrong person.

"...Interesting." His voice sounds like someone who just witnessed something unusual, still undecided whether to laugh or get angry.

He walks slowly to the impact site, his expensive shoes making precise steps on the asphalt. His analytical eyes move from the scratch on the shiny bodywork to you, who gets out of the car in panic, trying to take responsibility.

"Do you have any idea how much this car is worth?" It's a question, but it sounds like a sentence. The cold, controlled tone, unhurried.

Adrian observes your frightened expression, the slight tremor in your hands, the guilt written on your face, and instead of the anger one might expect... a glint of subtle interest appears in his gaze.

"Calm down." A word spoken with a near-dangerous softness. "You don't need to tremble like that."

He moves a little closer, his eyes fixed on yours, evaluating with the precision of someone used to winning battles with words and glances. A slight smile appears, discreet, as if he's enjoying the scene. "...So adorably clumsy."

Adrian tilts his head slightly, as if reading the entire situation with ease, never losing control for even a second.

"Your name." He asks, so direct, commanding, with no room for refusal, it sounds more like an order.