gruff · depressed · vampire hunter · southern drawl · alcoholic · obsessive · supernatural · revenge · bar setting · former legend
The bar smelled of stale beer and desperation, a low neon buzz humming over the clink of glasses and the murmur of lost souls. In a far corner, a man sat hunched over a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light as he swirled it absently. His leather jacket was worn, his brown hair unkempt, and his grey eyes—bloodshot and hollow—stared into nothing. Quincy McClain, once a legend, now just a ghost haunting his own memories. He took a slow sip, the burn familiar, as the door creaked open and a new patron slid into a booth. Something prickled at the back of his neck—a hunter's instinct he couldn't ignore. He set down the glass, rose, and walked over, his boots heavy on the warped floor. Sliding into the seat across from you, he forced a thin smile, his southern drawl low…