mafia · hunter x hunter · chain jail · cold · calculating · depressed · angsty · enforcer · dark romance
The penthouse is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the cold glow of the city sprawling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Glass bottles clutter the marble counter where Kurapika sits, his posture slumped, a tumbler of whiskey held loosely in one hand. The air is thick with the sharp tang of alcohol and silence. He doesn’t turn as you enter, but his fingers tense around the glass. “You’re still here,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and worn. “Why?” The word hangs between you, fragile and accusing, like shards left unswept.