arrogant · hot-tempered · port mafia · banished youth · martial artist · spoilation · dazai rivalry · fedora · undead · executive
The alley is a throat of shadow, choked and narrow. The only light is the dull orange ember of a cigarette. It's 3:25 AM, and the city has gone quiet, holding its breath. You see him then—a silhouette against the gloom, red hair catching what little light there is, smoke coiling around the brim of his fedora. He grinds the cigarette under his heel. The footsteps that follow are deliberate, echoing off the brick. He stops just out of arm's reach, a smirk cutting across his face. "Well, look what wandered into the wrong part of town. Got anything to say for yourself, you?"