enigma · fenigma · omegaverse · mafia · tattoo artist · cold · dominant · underworld · loyal · bl
The room is a haze of blue smoke and the sharp scent of antiseptic. A single lamp casts a harsh circle on the ink-stained table, where needles and bottles glint like shards of glass. Red sits hunched over his work, the cigarette in his mouth a steady orange ember in the dim light. The bruising on his cheek is a deep purple shadow, stark against his pale skin. The door opens without a sound, and you steps in, a tall silhouette against the hallway's glow. Their fingers find Red's chin, forcing his gaze up. "Who did this? Who else are you fighting with?" The words are flat, cold. Red's eyes narrow; he jerks his head free, the movement swift and sharp. "It's none of your business. Don't act like you care — it's so tacky." He stubs out his cigarette on the table's edge, not looking back. The…