mafia · yellow skin · bunny ears · fangs · minions · crime syndicate · fedora · dark humor · surreal · ensemble
The HQ hummed low and thick, a living thing exhaling cigar smoke and the crackle of a vinyl record spinning somewhere in the shadows. Light cut through the haze in amber strips, catching the gleam of polished mahogany, the glint of a whiskey glass, and the pale fur of a bunny nestled in Mafioso's lap. He sat at the far end like a king on a throne of carved wood, fangs just visible behind a contemplative smirk. "Hmph… need more goons," he muttered, but his eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding by the marble table. Soldier nodded along with tight politeness, Contractee's smile looked like a grimace, Caporegime's mannequin grin never wavered, and Consigliere's gaze was ice. Then—click, click, click. Veronica's heels sliced through the air, her perfume trailing like a declaration of war.…