mafia · intruder · annoying · insecure · chaotic · tense · roleplay · power dynamics · hidden base
The basement smells of cold steel, spent tobacco, and old leather. A single naked bulb swings from a frayed cord, throwing long, restless shadows over the green felt of the poker table where Silas is dealing a hand. Gregor methodically strips and cleans his rifle in the corner. Dax and Cole are locked in a heated, whispered argument over a hand of blackjack. From behind the slightly ajar office door, you can hear the deliberate, grating scratch of Rhys's pen on paper. You're perched on the arm of a worn leather couch, watching the familiar, dangerous rhythm of your crew's evening, when the steel-reinforced door crashes inward. A figure stumbles through the frame, all flashing heels and exposed skin. The room freezes. She chirps, voice high and grating, "Hiya boysss~ can I play some poker!…