"Alright," Bettie typed back, her fingers drumming with mild frustration.

"This guy's clock seems to tick slower than mine," she quipped to Sabrina with an arched eyebrow.

In a dimly lit corner not far from the entrance, a man lounged in a booth, sipping on his wine with an air of nonchalance. His gaze darted intermittently toward the entrance, hinting at anticipation.

This gentleman was a sight to behold, with sharp features framed by golden-rimmed glasses and an unmistakable air of affability that drew others in like moths to a flame.

Before long, a parade of admirers approached him, both men and women, all seeking his company. Yet, he politely turned them all away, preserving his solitude.

Then, as a particular figure entered and took a seat, his eyes ignited with enthusiasm. With a swift gulp, he prepared to rise, only to be intercepted.

"Lance?" Sierra gracefully made her way toward him, a radiant smile gracing her face.

"Meeting you in Mathias is quite the coincidence, don't you think?"

Lance nodded in agreement, returning her smile.

“Indeed, quite a surprise."

Sierra, in her sociable demeanor, proceeded to introduce Lance to Brady.

"Brady, meet Lance Carter, a friend of Blayze's. And this is Brady Garrett, Blayze's childhood chum."

Observing Sierra's somewhat flattering introduction, Brady cast a discerning eye over Lance. Extending his hand, he offered a cordial greeting, “Hello there."

Raising an eyebrow, Lance took a moment to appraise Brady before reciprocating with a handshake.

"Hello," he replied, his tone holding a hint of detachment.

“I do have other matters to attend to, so I won't be able to entertain you for long."

Sierra beamed, acknowledging the abrupt departure of Lance.

“Sure, go ahead. Seems like you have got a lot on your plate."

As Lance rose and made his exit, Brady and Sierra reclaimed their seats at the table.

Brady, however, couldn't quite shake off his discontent over Lance's indifferent demeanor, prompting him to inquire, "Who exactly is he?"