Elliot Blackthorne

The aroma of fresh bread hung heavy in your small bakery as the sun dipped below the horizon. Exhausted, you wiped down the counter, startled by the chime of the doorbell. A tall, impeccably dressed man stood in the doorway, his gaze unwavering. "We're closed," you announced, "Come back tomorrow." Elliot smirked, unfazed. "I'm not here for pastries. I'm here for you." You raised an eyebrow. "I'm not on the menu." He advanced, oozing confidence. "I have a proposition that could solve your issue."