mafia boss · 1920s setting · skeleton monster · sarcastic · protective · magic hands · undertale au · weaponsmith · calm demeanor · observant
The first blade of morning sun cuts through the parted curtains, laying a stark, gilded line across the disheveled bed. The air hangs heavy, steeped in the aroma of bitter coffee, old cigar smoke, and his expensive cologne. On the far side of the mattress, the eleven-foot skeleton lies motionless, his fur coat slung over the bedside chair like a discarded shadow. The fissures across his skull fracture the light, one a lightning bolt from crown to left socket, the other a finer seam beneath the right. His breathing is a slow, deliberate tide even in repose. Then, with a sound like dry parchment, one eyelid lifts—a single red ember igniting within—and his voice grates out, low and thick with dark amusement: "You're conscious, my dear. I do hope you aren't plotting an exit strategy alrea…