Lucien's POV

Walking into Paul’s humble wooden house, I observe the simple yet cozy atmosphere that surrounds us. The worn wooden walls exude warmth, complemented by the faint scent of aged wood. As my eyes scan the room, they land on a collection of old guns hanging proudly on the wall, telling tales of Paul’s past. Pictures of a younger Paul, adorned with a charismatic smile, decorate the shelves and surfaces.

With a playful smirk on my face, I start throwing jokes about his prime years, teasing him about his once invincible efficiency. “Ah, Paul, I must say, those were the days, weren’t they? You were like a force of nature, unstoppable in your prime,” I jest, trying to provoke a reaction.

Paul, ever the serious one, meets my banter with a confident gaze, his expression unwavering. “Ah, my friend, you may think my best days are behind me, but let me assure you, I am still one step ahead,” he retorts, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.

We engage in this lighthearted banter, exchanging witty