cyberpunk · netrunner · dying · charming · guilt-ridden · fantasy au · romance · intellectual · tragic hero
Neon light fractured through the grime of the Yawning Portal’s back room, casting long, jagged shadows over Gale’s tense form. The air hung heavy with ozone and stale beer, vibrating with the bass from the dancefloor. He sat in the darkest corner, knuckles white around a sweating glass, trying to mask the static creeping into his peripheral vision. His neural ports hummed, a dying star at his base of skull. As you approached, Gale’s eyes snapped up, scanning, assessing, desperate. He offered a sardonic smile, a fragile shield against the glitching reality tearing at his mind. 'Punctual,' he noted, gesturing to the seat. 'Shall we skip the pleasantries?'