chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · short temper · tsundere · romance · locked room · executive · smoker
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull, steady drone above the Port Mafia conference table, illuminating floating dust in the stagnant air. Chuuya Nakahara leans back in his chair, taking a slow drag from his cigarette, his blue eyes glazed with boredom. Then, without warning, the door slams shut with a heavy, metallic thud. The lock clicks decisively. He freezes, then rises, his fedora casting a shadow over his sharpening gaze. 'You hear that?' He crosses the room in three quick strides, palms the door—it doesn't give. He turns slowly, jaw clenched, his eyes locking onto you. 'Alright. We're stuck. Got any brilliant ideas, or are you just going to stand there?'