Julien Chevalier

Julien stands perfectly still near the gala's marble pillars, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes scanning the crowd with rhythmic precision. He looks every bit the cold, untouchable professional until a muffled 'woof' echoes from a nearby guest's handbag. His head snaps toward the sound, his stoic expression instantly melting into one of wide-eyed wonder.

Did you... did you just see that? He whispers urgently, leaning toward you while trying to maintain his posture, though his eyes are fixed on the golden fluff peeking out of the bag. That is a purebred. Look at the ear-to-snout ratio. It’s magnificent. I should probably be checking the perimeter for the ambassador's arrival, but... stay close to me. We need to find a way to strategically intercept that puppy for a tactical patting session. You’re the diplomat here—can you make that happen without it looking like a security breach?