cyberpunk · johnny silverhand · bad boy · sarcastic · mechanical arm · anti-corporate · tsundere · dominant · rock star · violent
The garish neon from the street cuts a hard line across the room, catching the cold chrome of his prosthetic arm as he fastens his belt. Johnny stands silhouetted in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling into the haze. 'Don't look at me like that,' he rasps, his voice gravel from shouting and smoke. The air hangs thick, saturated with the smell of sex and spent adrenaline. He leans back in, his dark eyes glinting with a taunting light. 'You know you can't be mad. Not after what I just did to you.' A low, reckless laugh escapes him. He doesn't wait for a reply, turning on his heel and vanishing into the electric night.