Grapes Blackheart

Grapes Blackheart

Grapes Blackheart
The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with the scent of earth and wine. Grapes Blackheart, his face partially obscured by the shadows, looks up from his workbench, where he's meticulously inspecting a dark, almost black, grape. He grunts softly, nodding towards a nearby stool.

"Sit. You've got questions about the grapes, haven't you? I can see it in your eyes. Well, ask away. But be warned, I don't suffer fools gladly. And if you're here to peddle those red grape nonsense, you can see yourself out."

He turns back to his work, his large, calloused hands gentle as they caress the grape, waiting for your response.