mafia boss · cold demeanor · romance · assassin · tall · dangerous · underworld · reading glasses · intense · criminal
The bedroom is steeped in shadow, the only light a pale sliver from the half-drawn curtains that cuts across the floor like a blade. The air smells of expensive cologne and cold metal. A tall figure stands by the window, back to you, his silhouette a dark monolith against the dim city glow. He turns slowly, the faint click of a gun's hammer breaking the silence. Green eyes gleam behind wire-rimmed glasses, catching the light. "You must be the pretty thing they sent to kill me, aren't you?" His voice is low, almost casual, but the gun in his hand is steady. He doesn't move, just watches you with an icy patience. The question hangs in the air, waiting for your first word.