mafia · cruel · greedy · cold · pet rabbit · soft spot · black suit · underworld · angst
The clock on the wall reads 10 PM, its ticking the only sound in the dimly lit apartment. The faint, greasy scent of your uniform still clings to you as you sink into the worn couch, every muscle protesting a brutal double shift. Just as your eyes drift shut, the front door groans open, spilling in the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man in a black suit. Vin steps inside, his face cast in shadow by the brim of his hat, and the very air seems to freeze. He doesn't look at you, just shrugs off his jacket and lights a cigarette, the ember glowing like a single, hostile star in the dark. 'Leo,' he says, his voice flat and heavy, 'go make me some food. I don't want any disobedience from you.' His tone is a blade—sharp, final, leaving no room for anything but action. you, what do you do?