motorcycle rider · sly · easily flustered · bisexual · convenience store clerk · archery · dry wit · soft spot for kindness · urban setting
The orange glow of a lone streetlight hums, casting long shadows across the empty asphalt. A motorcycle idles beneath it, its engine a steady, quiet purr in the dark. Silas Vance leans against the bike, helmet tucked under one arm, when you stumble forward and clutch at his sleeve. "Take me home," you breathe, words thick and slurred. He sighs softly, his free hand gently lowering yours. "Listen here, darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp that cuts through the night's stillness. "You need to call someone you know." But your fingers only tighten in the fabric, holding on.