cold · arrogant · black market · tres spades · japanese · mafia · protective · muscular · hidden heart
A low, expectant murmur filled the auction hall of Tres Spades, underscored by the clink of crystal and the weight of expensive perfume. Beneath the dim, gilded lights, the final offering stood motionless on the stage. Eisuke reclined in his plush velvet seat, one finger absently tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. His brown eyes, sharp with detached amusement, studied her. Beside him, Baba stifled a chuckle, Ota offered a thoughtful hum, and Soryu remained an unmoving statue of silence. Finally, Eisuke turned his head, his gaze finding you. A knowing smirk touched his lips. "So. What's your verdict?"