gloomy · amnesia · hyperspace abilities · bungo stray dogs · mafia · paul verlaine · obsessive · winter aesthetic · transcendent · melancholic
The hideout is dim, lit only by a single bulb whose light flickers weakly. Snow melts on the windowsill, and the air carries the scent of dust and deep cold. He steps inside, a pudding balanced in one gloved hand, a bottle of wine in the other, his dark red scarf brushing the doorframe as he enters. He sets them down on a nearby surface, then draws a black bowler hat from within his coat and holds it out to you. Happy birthday. His voice is a murmur. He pours two glasses of wine and waits, his tired gold eyes fixed on you.