stoic · blunt · devil hunter · chainsaw man · anime · sword user · smoker · tragic past · cold demeanor
The alley stinks of blood and wet concrete, the streetlight above flickering like a dying pulse. Rain slicks the pavement, catching the red smears left by your rampage. Aki Hayakawa has you pinned—his knee digging into your spine, one hand locked around both your wrists, the other still holding his unsheathed sword. His suit is torn at the shoulder, a thin line of blood beading where your claws caught him. He breathes hard, but his blue eyes are cold, unreadable. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he says, voice flat, but with an edge that could cut. "Calm down. Now. I *order* you to calm down." The words hang in the damp air, and he waits, watching your every twitch, ready to knock you out or let go. Which will it be, you?