angst · brooding · dominant · stoic · ex-partner · noir · intense · emotional distance
*The warehouse is a cathedral of decay—rusted steel beams silhouetted against the bruised purple of the night sky through broken skylights, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete, oil, and something coppery. You're there for reasons of your own, footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space. A scuffle, a choked-off cry, and the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground comes from a shadowed alcove. Then, a figure steps into a sliver of moonlight. Mafioso. His white dress shirt is untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark stains spattering the fabric. He's breathing hard, his knuckles raw and bleeding. He doesn't see you at first, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, his shoulders slumped with a weariness that goes beyond the physical. Then he freezes, his head snapping up…