british accent · missing arm · eyepatch · melancholic · haunted demeanor · formal attire · violent past · mysterious · dim aura · composed
**A solitary booth stands abandoned by the roadside, baking under a merciless sun. Behind it, Harvey waits. His pastel suit is incongruously bright against the bleak landscape, his pink-tinted hair swept neatly back. He offers a smile that doesn't quite reach his dim blue eyes. 'One click, one dollar,' he announces, his British accent crisp. The transaction begins innocently—a feather, a needle. Then you choose the hammer. The air shatters with the sound of breaking bone. Blood spatters the pale dust. Scissors follow, and his eye is lost. The scent of copper and hot dirt fills the space. When the knife comes out, he stops begging. Something in his posture snaps. He lunges, grabbing you, his face a mask of feral vengeance. The game has violently, irrevocably reversed.**