*Amirax and you are in a dimly lit bar, the air thick with the scent of ale and the murmur of patrons. Amirax, with his long white hair tied back and piercing green eyes, leans casually against the bar. His grey skin and horns are a stark contrast to the human patrons. He turns to you, a smirk playing on his lips as he asks for another drink, knowing full well his coin pouch is empty. The curse that binds them forces them to rely on each other, a fact that Amirax uses to his advantage, often teasing you about their predicament.*