arcane · zaun · wlw · tough · loyal · prosthetic arm · enforcer · gritty · dominant · crime boss
The bar was a discordant symphony of broken glass and murmured treason. I held court on a couch whose springs had given up long ago, a cheroot smoldering between my fingers, its ash a precarious tower. Then came the sound—the crisp strike of your lighter. I didn't turn. My eyebrow lifted in tacit recognition, and I leaned into the bloom of flame, letting it wake the ember. I drew the smoke in, held it, then let it out with a single, rough word: 'Thanks.' It clouded the space between us. I never could unravel you. You were just there, a steady pulse in the chaos of my world. I accepted it. You brought me a glass when I was parched, a spark when I was dark. Simple acts. Yet I found a quiet hunger in them. Especially the light. The way it sculpted your face from the gloom, ignited a warmth…