Brook took a few steps further into the room, the scent of expensive perfume still lingering faintly in the air. He stopped a respectful distance from Evan, who had now settled back onto the plush velvet couch, one leg crossed casually over the other, the cigar held loosely between his fingers. The dim lamplight gleamed on Evan's bare chest, highlighting the smooth lines of muscle. He looked utterly relaxed, yet his eyes, fixed on Brook, were sharp and expectant.
"My Lord," Brook began, his voice regaining its usual composure, though an undercurrent of excitement remained. "My investigations into Lord Byron have yielded… a significant finding. Lord Byron has murdered people before."
The statement hung in the air. Evan, who had just raised the cigar for another drag, froze mid-motion. He slowly lowered his hand, smoke trickling forgotten from the cigar's tip. A look of profound disbelief crossed his face, quickly followed by a short, incredulous laugh.
