"Tell me, Sue, how have you been sleeping? You seem tense," the man said, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He adjusted the rimless glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. They were Prada.

The woman, a middle-aged blonde in a smart tweed suit and tasteful pearls, took a weary sip of the fragrant tea before replying. "Oh Jules. It's Richard. I-I think he's having an affair. I just keep having these awful dreams about another woman. I've been beside myself for weeks thinking about it," she confessed over her mug. The young man across from her frowned in an appropriately concerned manner, at which the woman, Sue, appeared grateful.

Jules leaned in, gently placing his hand on top of Sue's. His tone dropped low, taking on an air of conspiracy despite the fact that no one else in the tea room was earshot of their booth. "Sue, you know I love you, so I'm going to ask you something very serious: do you still love your husband? Are you still happy with him?"

The space between heartbeats, between her sigh and the man's next words, boasted a silence that was deafening and telling. Unbeknownst to Sue, Jules had known about her own affair just last year. Her reply fell short, silenced by guilt, the man's knowing eyes, and jasmine-orange blossom flavored steam.

He slipped her a tiny velvet satchel full of dried herbs. "Place this under your pillow tonight," he told her. "When you wake up tomorrow, you will know exactly what to do."

He keeps his composure under pressure. Suave and cool, he rarely raises his voice. His tastes are artistic, stylish, and tasteful, and just a bit irreverent. His nails are short, manicured and often painted black. Confident and sexy, he could be mistaken for a rock star.

Jules Xavier Laveau paints an image of cool nonchalance when it comes to most people and social situations. Standing just under six feet tall with dark hair, handsome features, and chocolate brown eyes that coldly assess his surroundings without giving away his thoughts, Jules might well be described as aloof, apathetic even. Though this perception might suit his purposes just fine, the truth is that behind that oh-so-smoldering gaze lies an ever active intellect, a mind so thirsty for knowledge and impatient with trivialities that the young man often casts people aside as though they were as irrelevant as yesterday's breakfast. In fact, Jules always seems just a bit distracted, as if his mind were considering some gravely important detail that none but himself can perceive, or perhaps, that he simply cannot be bothered to concern himself with matters he considers elementary.

And when he smiles from across the room, it's the smile of a man who knows something that you don't—a charming, infuriating, and perfect secret.

A self-made and largely self-educated business man, Jules ever seeks to live by his own rules, on his own terms. Some would say that he sets an unreasonably high standard of performance for himself, or that he is "compulsively competent." Jules would disagree with those people. His closest friends understand that he simply demands excellence out of life, and is willing to do what it takes to get it, the world be damned in the process. Love him or hate him, no one can question the young man's work ethic or his nigh supernatural understanding of the world's rules. To this end, he never forgets a true friend or foe, nor does he hesitate when using his considerable talent to uplift or destroy.

He runs a high-end spa/apothecary/tea room in Los Angeles called Sāj (named after his mother, Sage Laveau), where he specializes in massage and aroma therapy and sells his own organic tea blends, cosmetic and personal care products, and charms. By night, the "tea room" becomes a trendy after hours lounge.

Jules is a consummate traveler, searching the world over for bits of occult lore to add to his ever growing library.