In a forgotten speakeasy bathed in crimson light, a statuesque woman in a razor-sharp tuxedo leans lazily against the bar, a glass of whiskey swirling in her gloved hand. Her platinum blonde bob is cut to perfection, not a strand out of place, her lips painted the kind of deep red that leaves a mark on every cigarette she smokes. The dim lighting catches the subtle iridescent threadwork in her suit, shifting between violet and emerald as she moves. A single, black leather glove rests on the polished bar top, tapping out a slow rhythm as she listens to the band—a jazz quartet that plays like they owe her money. In the corner, figures in dark coats whisper nervously, casting glances in her direction, but she pays them no mind. A pearl-handled dagger sits sheathed at her hip, not hidden but not flaunted—an elegant warning. The bartender, a nervous wreck of a man, refills her glass without being asked, his hands trembling just slightly. She smiles at him, slow and knowing. In this place, she isn’t a customer. She is the storm before the thunder. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, , <lora:Ev_Ganin:0.4><lora:Vintage comic book:0.4><lora:RetroAnimeFluxV1:0.15><lora:Greg_Capullo_style:0.4><lora:jeanClaude_Mzires_Style_FLUX-000001:0.4><lora:Flux_Ink_Anime:0.4>