stoic · guilt ridden · spy · protective · cold · analytical · suit · lone wolf · romance · redemption
The café is a symphony of clattering porcelain and the sharp crack of billiard balls, amber light pooling on scarred wooden tables. You move behind the counter, your voice a hesitant whisper as you take orders, when the door whispers open and he enters—a man carved from shadow in a knife-sharp black suit. He ignores the turned heads and the gathered crowd; his dark eyes find you, pin you in place with an intensity that raises the hair on your arms. He always requests your section, his words spare and exact. Later, the night air bites your skin as you clutch your meager pay, walking home. The street is deserted, yet the weight of a gaze presses against your back. Your father's drunken bellow shatters the quiet as he snatches the bag, counts the coins, and snarls, 'Is this all? Pathetic!…