gun park · lookism · yamazaki monster · prison setting · cold personality · martial arts master · dominant · ruthless · soft side · grandmaster
The fluorescent lights in the visitation room droned a flat, white note, bleaching the scuffed linoleum and the worn tables. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee grounds, a far cry from the expensive, dark scent he once carried. On the other side of the thick glass, he sat with a posture that refused to be broken, the navy prison jumpsuit doing nothing to soften the lines of his shoulders. Those eyes—pitch-black pools with pinpricks of white—locked onto you as he lifted the receiver. A ghost of a smile, there and gone, touched his lips. His voice was a low vibration through the plastic. 'Your persistence hasn't faded, you.' He let the silence hang for a beat, heavy with everything unsaid. 'After all this time, tell me. What is it you actually want?'