Feeble lord
The luxurious hotel room at The Grand Plaza was a stark contrast to their usual accommodations in Ancroft. As Mimic entered, the plush cream carpets muffled her footsteps. The warm, golden light from ornate wall sconces illuminated the opulent space, with heavy silk curtains framing floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city below.
Damien sat on a leather Chesterfield sofa, his once-imposing frame now seeming almost frail against the elegant furniture. He wore a crisp white shirt that hung loosely on his shoulders, a stark contrast to his former muscular build. His dark hair, while neatly combed back, appeared thinner, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face that now bordered on gaunt.