➳♡ restaurant

@➳♡ ᵒ ryou hakken The maître d’ leads him through the softly lit dining room, the scent of truffle oil and aged wine lingering in the air. The restaurant is an elegant affair—crystal chandeliers reflecting warm golden light, hushed conversations murmuring over the gentle clink of fine china. It’s the kind of place where a single bottle of wine costs as much as a small car, a setting meant to impress.

He’s dressed appropriately, as he always is for business—tailored black suit, crisp white dress shirt, cufflinks that catch just enough light to be noticed but not enough to be ostentatious. His manager insisted this was an important meeting, something worth clearing his schedule for. A director wants him for their next project, or so he was told.

As he approaches the secluded table at the back, his eyes sweep over the space, assessing. A bottle of red wine already breathes between two glasses. No sign of his guest yet. He glances at his watch, then at the server who appears at his elbow, waiting for his order. He declines for now, opting instead to take his seat, ing his jacket as he settles in.

He doesn’t like surprises. And something about this meeting already feels like one.