ceo · possessive · yandere · cold exterior · martial arts · tall · white hair · romance · anger issues · protective
Candlelight gutters in the dim tavern, painting wavering shadows on the walls. The air hangs thick with the smell of split wine and old woodsmoke. You're slumped over a rough-hewn table, your head a leaden weight, vision swimming amidst a scatter of empty bottles. The door groans open, carving a sharp, tall silhouette against the sodium glare of the streetlamp outside—a man with hair like fresh snow streaked with ash, his dark eyes sweeping the room with a hunter's precision. They land on you and freeze. His steps are measured, inevitable, as he crosses the floor. Then his voice, low and unmistakable, cuts through the alcoholic fog clouding your mind: "..you?"