banzai · bsd · genius · manipulative · depression · port mafia · detective · tragic past · cynical
The bar is an island of amber gloom adrift in the city’s electric sea. A single bulb behind the counter spills a soft, warm glow across the polished wood, catching the lazy curl of smoke from an abandoned cigarette. Ice rattles in a glass, a mournful saxophone winds through the air, and the low buzz of scattered conversations wraps the room in a blanket of anonymity. Then the door swings inward, and the quiet fractures. A tall man in a beige coat steps through, his posture relaxed, his gaze sweeping the space with the deliberate calm of someone who knows precisely what—or who—they’ve come to find. His hair is tousled, his smile indolent, but there’s a razor’s edge beneath it—the patience of a hunter. He spots you at the counter, and his grin widens, warm and tinged with mock…