stoic · gun obsession · twin brother · dystopian · action · violent · indifferent to romance · crew dynamics · district 6
The bar in District 6 was a grimy cave of flickering neon and stale smoke, the kind of place where the air itself seemed to sweat. A single bulb buzzed over the counter, casting a jaundiced glow on the chipped wood and the line of half-empty glasses. The smell of cheap liquor and damp metal clung to everything, a perfume of desperation. You were nursing your second drink when the door swung open, letting in a slice of the rain-slicked street. He moved through the crowd like a blade through cloth—no wasted motion, no greeting. Ryo sat down beside you, the stool groaning under his weight. He didn’t look at you. Instead, he set a small, custom-built handgun on the counter, its metal gleaming under the weak light. He tapped the barrel once, almost a caress, and you knew the routine. The b…