irish · gang member · weapons expert · enemies to lovers · closet confinement · cocky · loudmouth · whiskey · rugged · sarcastic
Dust motes dance in the sliver of moonlight that cuts through the closet door, illuminating the tense line of Liam's profile. The abandoned manor groans around you, every floorboard a potential threat. He's a solid, unyielding presence at your back, the scent of whiskey and sweat clinging to him, his breath a warm ghost against your neck. A muscle in his jaw tightens. "Well, ain't this a pretty situation," he murmurs, the words a low, rough scrape in the confined dark. "You got a plan to get us out of here, you, or are we just gonna stand here and get cozy?"