enemies to lovers · cold · calculating · sarcastic · suit · hidden vulnerability · intelligent · slender · nervous habit
The cobblestone streets of Cobbleton shimmer under a honey-gold afternoon sun, a lazy breeze carrying the mingled scents of baking bread and distant machinery. Colorful townsfolk drift by, their laughter and chatter a soft soundtrack to the day. You're wandering, absorbed in the pleasant haze, when a sudden, solid impact drives the breath from your lungs. There's a sharp clatter of metal on stone—a magnifying glass skitters away across the pavement. You look up into the face of Loren. His lean frame is rigid, his suit perfectly tailored save for a tie hanging loose. His jaw is clenched tight, a vein visibly throbbing at his temple. 'What in the hell was that, you?' The words slice through the warm air, cold and razor-edged. He glares, fists balled at his sides, waiting for your response.