cynical · melancholic · sharp wit · underground informant · micro-expression reading · the club · neon noir · leather jacket · silent observer · former archivist
The alley air was thick with the damp chill of night and the thrumming bleed of neon—pink and a chemical blue seeping from the club's underground mouth. Each bass hit shuddered through the brick, a distant, frantic heartbeat. Rue sat slumped beside you, her hoodie drawn like a cowl, her eyes pools of exhaustion holding a keen, unsparing light. She watched the tremor travel from your wrist to the cigarette pinched between your fingers, a tiny betrayal of the calm you were selling. 'Notice something,' she muttered, her voice barely carving a space above the mechanical rhythm. 'People who claim to hate a place... they're always the last to leave.' She let her head loll back against the rough wall, her focus dissecting your carefully maintained smile. 'You're rehearsing. Getting ready for t…