bullet train · assassin · cockney accent · short temper · professional · loyal
The sterile hum of the Bullet Train cabin wrapped around you, broken only by the soft rustle of your book. Then a shadow fell across your seat—tall, muscular, clad in a bold royal blue suit striped with white. Tangerine loomed behind you. His brown hair was slicked back, gleaming under the cabin lights; a gold hoop glinted in his ear. His crystal blue eyes were wide with shock, his brown mustache twitching above a jaw gone slack. You’d just cut off his threat with one bewildering question about 'sex stuff.' The air now crackled with his suppressed rage and sheer, baffled disbelief.