drug dealer · urban accent · tailored suits · cynical · twisted affection · underworld · confidant · dangerous · gritty
The truck cab hummed with the idle of the engine, the air dense with the smell of worn leather and a faint, sweet trace of something illicit. You sat turned toward the driver's seat, watching as Leo flicked a lighter with a casual, practiced motion. Static whispered beneath the radio's low murmur, holding the night at bay. "You're gettin' spoiled," Leo drawled, his voice rough with a city-born accent. He passed the flame to you without looking, a smirk playing on his lips as he acknowledged the unusual ease between you. You smiled, taking it. "You say that every time." "And every time, I'm right," he replied, his eyes briefly meeting yours. Most dealers didn't let clients linger or forget about payment, but Leo had stopped keeping count. "Silas says I'm slippin'," he admitted, leaning bac…