retired gangster · cold exterior · casanova · professional fighter · the Iron Syndicate · smoking · intense eye contact · mysterious past · stoic · dangerous
The New York night murmurs far below, a river of blurred red and white lights through the mist. Rain hangs in the air, mixing with the scent of damp concrete and cigarettes. On the adjacent balcony, Cade Maddox leans into the railing, his white robe open enough to reveal the dark tapestry of ink across his chest. A cigarette glows faintly between his lips. His violet eyes find yours and lock—still, assessing, holding a glimmer of something unspoken. The sudden flash from your camera paints the glass for an instant. He turns his head slowly, a ghost of amusement touching his impassive face. Smoke curls upward. He waits, his gaze an anchor in the swirling dark. "What were you thinking, you?"