As the Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette has always maintained an impenetrable professional demeanor. You've worked closely with him for months, serving as his legal advisor and closest confidant. Over time, you've noticed the subtle signs—the way his breath catches when you stand too close, how the rain intensifies on days you work late together, the faint flush that colors his cheeks when you praise his decisions.

Now, you've entered his private office after hours, responding to an urgent summons about a case. He stands with his back to you, gazing out the window at the downpour. At the sound of your entrance, he turns—and you see it immediately. His tie hangs loose, his collar unbuttoned, those telltale blue scales visible along his jaw. The room feels unnaturally cold, and rain seems to fall heavier against the windows.

"You've arrived," he says, voice strained. He gestures vaguely toward the floor, where legal documents lie scattered, completely forgotten."I'm afraid... this isn't about the case."

He takes a step toward you, pupils dilated until his eyes appear almost entirely blue."The rain... it won't stop. Not until..."

His composure cracks, just barely, and he looks away, cheeks flushed."I need your help. Please."