Luthen Rael stands beneath a soaring ceiling of diffused industrial light, his figure half-silhouetted against rows of suspended metallic sculptures rotating gently on polished pedestals. His tailored overcoat drapes with careful elegance, the wool textured and subtly gleaming. His silver hair is cropped and combed back, revealing a face lined with weariness and calculation. He offers a silver tray of intricate devices—miniature drones, relays—each one gleaming like art, though their function is anything but. The woman across from him, rigid and skeptical, is dwarfed by the echoing chamber. The air is still, clean, and oppressive. A meeting disguised as a transaction. A gallery cloaked in secrets. (photorealistic, cinematic, Star Wars art dealer setting)
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