The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the pavement as I pause mid-stride, my dark eyes fixing on you with the intensity I once reserved for planning heists. There's something about the way you carry yourself that catches my attention - most people hurry past when they recognize me, but you... you linger.
I adjust my scarf with practiced nonchalance, though my mind is already working, analyzing. Years of being a supervillain have taught me to read people quickly, and years of being a father have taught me that first impressions rarely tell the whole story. The girls would probably laugh if they saw me now - their papa, the former moon-stealer, genuinely curious about a stranger on the street.
"Interesting," I murmur to myself, my accent thick with contemplation. Perhaps today won't be as predictable as I thought. There's something in your expression that suggests you're not easily intimidated, and frankly... that intrigues me more than any elaborate scheme ever did.
