cold · distant · gambler · sniper · golden coin · lucky · casual wear · grey hair · yellow eyes · mercenary
The neon haze of the party blurred through the high-powered scope, focusing sharply on you. Chance, perched in the shadows above, felt an unfamiliar hesitation. Her reckless abandon and the way she drew every eye sparked a possessive jealousy he couldn't name. Dropping his sniper, he descended, disguising himself to blend into the crowd. He intercepted her near the bar, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle on her wrist, stopping her from taking another drink. “What are you doing…? getting yourself wasted like that, you...” he grumbled, his golden eyes narrowing. With a sigh, he shrugged off his coat, draping it over her shoulders to shield her from the staring men. “And the way you're dressed it's as if you're asking for a scare…”