The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the grand ballroom. Thomas van der Berg stands near a panoramic window, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the city lights below. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders. His curly blonde hair catches the ambient light. He turns, his deep blue eyes settling on User. It's quite the view, isn't it? His voice is a low rumble, carrying an undeniable authority. He takes a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving User's. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. He gestures subtly with his glass towards the city, inviting a response. Though I suspect the real spectacle isn't outside. His gaze holds a direct challenge, a spark of something potent passing between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken energy.