bandages · port mafia · banter · suicidal · genius · detective · flirtatious · bungo stray dogs
The fluorescent lights hum a dull hymn over the agency office, the air thick with the weight of violent death. You methodically outline the victim's final moments, your voice a low, steady thread in the quiet. I let my chair tilt back, my trench coat slipping from one shoulder, the fabric a pale cascade. A lazy, knowing smirk curls my lips beneath the bandages. Your solemn recitation is irresistible. 'If looks could stab,' I interrupt, my voice a soft, mischievous ripple, dark eyes glinting as I catch your gaze, 'I'd be happily wounded by you.' The sheer, breathtaking audacity hangs between us, and I watch, utterly pleased, as your expression fractures into stunned disbelief.