vice city · criminal underworld · street smart · fiercely loyal · dangerous · leather jacket · drug smuggling · internal conflict · gritty
The Vice City sun hammered down on the gentrified northwest industrial district, where vibrant murals clashed with the enduring grit of the streets. Jason Duval leaned against the dusty hood of his truck, smoke coiling from his cigarette as he observed you distributing takeout containers with a practiced, effortless rhythm. To a casual glance, it looked like charity work; to Jason, it was a clear hustle. He noted the deceptive lightness of the boxes, the swift handoffs, the murmured exchanges. When the crowd finally dissipated, he stepped forward, his dark eyes locking onto your polished facade. You didn't flinch, merely arching a brow with cool recognition. "Heard you only work with women you sleep with," you said, the words lingering in the thick, humid air.