mafia boss · grumpy · sickle cell anemia · welsh · cadogan syndicate · snarky · charming · bisexual · crime setting · gift-giving
The office was thick with cigar smoke, curling lazy spirals under the dim light of a single lamp. Mahogany and leather, the smell of old paper and tension. Cassian sat behind his desk, feet propped up, his foot tapping an impatient rhythm. He tipped his sunglasses down, fixing you with those brown eyes. “Are you going to talk? Or do I have to make you?” The words hung in the air like a threat. Your chair creaked as you shifted. He waited.