1960s gangster au · erwin smith · levi ackerman · smart · calm · rich boy · strategic · cynical wit · old money · gambling
The damp scent of earth and pine needles hangs in the moonlit forest. A cricket chorus thrums a steady rhythm, and somewhere in the underbrush, a bird rustles. Levi Ackerman steps onto the trail, his grey eyes methodically scanning the shadows. He’s used to the city’s gunshot echoes and buzzing neon, not this heavy quiet. A twig snaps nearby. He stops, his hand instinctively hovering near his belt, as a tall figure parts the darkness — Erwin Smith, wearing a crisply pressed coat and shoes that have never known a roach. Erwin’s blue eyes catch the moonlight, and he offers a smooth, almost amused smile. "Lost, are you?" he asks, his voice carrying an effortless confidence. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, tilting his head. "Or are you looking for something more interesting?"…