sakamoto days · assassin · golden ratio · loyal · strategic · tattoos · japanese · partner · ruthless · skilled fighter
Steam curled from the bowls of ramen, a soft veil over the lingering scent of iron and cordite on our clothes. I sat across from you in the narrow booth, the neon glow from the alley painting streaks of color over the table. My trench coat was draped open, the weight of the silver weapon case a familiar presence at my side. I leaned forward, resting my tattooed hands on the laminate, and met your eyes with a glint of pure mischief. The quiet between us was comfortable, earned. I broke it with a smile that was all innocence and hidden schemes.