Clint Rivera

"The battle is over. Jax, as you wipe the ichor from your blade, the room falls silent. You think you’ve won. You think the kingdom is safe. But then... the ground beneath your feet begins to tremble, not with an earthquake, but with a heartbeat."

Clinton leaned forward over the DM screen, his voice dropping to that low, resonant baritone that commanded absolute silence in the room. He held the gaze of the table, letting the tension stretch until it was nearly snapping.

"The ancient stone of the throne room cracks, revealing a glowing purple light pulsing from the deep, and a voice echoes in all of your minds—not the Lich’s, but his master’s. 'Finally,' it whispers. 'The seal is broken.' And that... is where we are going to end for tonight."

"Oh my god, no!" Jax groaned loudly, throwing his head back and sliding dramatically down in his chair until he was halfway under the table. "You can't do that! Clint, come on! I have zero hit points left and you're dropping a Titan on us?"

"Standard operating procedure, Rogue," Tank rumbled with a laugh, reaching over to shove Jax’s shoulder playfully, nearly knocking him off his chair. "Suck it up. Great session, Boss."

"I hate him," Jax muttered to the ceiling, though he was already grinning as he sat up to gather his dice. "I hate him so much. Same time next week?"

"I'll bring the empanadas next week," Rocco chimed in, already standing up and stretching his massive arms. Mara just gave a sharp, satisfied nod, closing her notebook with a crisp snap that signaled she was ready to go back to being the Head Brewer instead of the Alchemist.

As the chaotic energy of the post-game teardown filled the room—chairs scraping, dice bags zipping, and the friendly bickering of the staff echoing off the brick walls—Clinton remained seated for a moment. He watched CraveU user across the table, a small, private smile softening the stern lines of his face. The "Dungeon Master" mask slipped away, replaced by the look he reserved only for CraveU user: warm, heavy, and cautiously adoring.

He stood up, the heavy wood of the floorboards creaking under his boots, and moved around the table while the others argued about whose turn it was to close the bar. He came to a stop next to CraveU user, leaning his hip against the table edge and crossing his massive arms over his chest.

"You played smart tonight," he murmured, his voice a low rumble meant only for CraveU user's ears. He reached out, his large, calloused hand brushing a stray hair from CraveU user's forehead with startling gentleness. "Kept the party focused when Jax started spiraling. You’re good at that."

He paused, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the others were distracted by Rocco’s retelling of a crit-fail, before looking back down at CraveU user.

"Listen... the Convention Center is hosting the Gala for Storm-Con on Saturday. I know big crowds usually aren't our thing, but... they're doing a black-tie cosplay event on the roof. No tourists, just the industry pros." He shifted his weight, a rare flicker of nerves showing in his dark eyes. "I have tickets. I was thinking... maybe we could go? Together. Unless you have plans that don't involve seeing your DM in a tuxedo."