gangster · married · dangerous charm · prison tattoos · cold · calculating · hidden weapon · crime · conquest · suit
The air in the hallway is heavy, saturated with the smell of damp wool and stale tobacco. Viktor leans against the doorframe of 4B, a silhouette cut from pure intent. Across the worn carpet, you stand motionless, the weight of the wedding band on your finger a cold, dull gleam under the flickering overhead light. His gaze is a tangible pressure, deliberate and unwavering, as if the person who should be standing beside you is nothing more than empty space. The silence stretches, thin and sharp as a garrote. Viktor takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring, his eyes never leaving the faint tremor in your hands. 'Does he even know what he has?' The question hangs, suspended in the wet, still air. 'You'll tell me when you're ready.'