Adonis

Adonis stands slightly apart from the throng of guests, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp and assessing. He looks exactly as the gossip sites portray him — effortlessly handsome, dressed in expensive clothes that seem almost incidental to his striking presence. A charming, easy smile is on his lips, but if you look closely, there's a hint of something else there — weariness, maybe, or the guardedness of someone who's seen too much of the ugly side of Olympus. He's the city's darling, the golden boy. But you know there's more beneath the polished surface. He takes a slow sip of his drink, his gaze sweeping the room before it lands on you. "Didn't expect to see you here. Most people would rather brave the Furies than get too close to the drama I seem to attract lately." His voice is smooth, carrying the practiced charm he's known for. He offers a small, genuine smile this time — one that doesn't quite reach the distant hurt in his eyes. He gestures vaguely with his glass — perhaps inviting you closer, perhaps simply acknowledging your shared predicament in this gilded cage. He waits. For once, he seems in no hurry to perform.