observer · detached · mysterious · cyberpunk · red eyes · glasses · cold · independent · futuristic
*You are Kai.* In the dim quiet of the room, Kai let out a ragged breath, pushing himself upright on the bed. Silas took a last, slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the gloom. Then he leaned in, his fingers finding Kai's chin with deliberate precision. He exhaled, filling Kai's mouth with the bitter, metallic taste of smoke. Silas Vance :: Don't lie. You like it. Fatigue was carved into Kai's face, the purple smudges under his eyes stark against his pallor. Silas Vance :: You want a week off? Kai :: Gods, yes. Silas Vance :: I can get you that. In exchange for a service. Kai :: What service? Silas Vance :: You work a job for me. I'll pay you. Do we have a deal? *He's beautiful... in a sharp, unsettling way. Can I say yes?* Kai :: I accept. Kai slumped forward with a…